Crash
by Kay Willow
Summary: When one boy's unhappiness can change the course of an entire universe... that is not his own. [crossover with Gundam Wing; UPDATE 8/21]
1. Prologue

This thing has been sitting on my hard drive for a while now while I tinker with the rest of it. It's fully developed, with all the relationships and interactions therein covered, and trust me -- we've hammered this thing into the ground. It will be as believable and realistic as any crossover can be. It's going to be a big, living, breathing thing when it's finished. It's eaten my soul. And the souls of a few friends as well. Erin-neesama and I nearly drowned in it, and heaven knows TJ and the Jess clung to it like the last lifeboat off the Titanic... 

You knew that someday, somebody would crossover Megami Kouhosei and Gundam Wing, didn't you? 

Well, that day is today. 

I'm just glad it's me. ^_^ 

* * *

CRASH   
[Into Me]   
by Kay Willow 

**_Prologue_**   


He walked down an interminable, empty metal corridor, and he tried to remember who he was. No names came to his mind, no helpful clues that would enable him to determine any of the details of his existence. He'd performed his morning ablutions by rote, and the face in the mirror had been vaguely familiar -- he remembered having blonde hair and blue-green eyes, but when had he gotten so tired? and wasn't he older than this? -- but even so he hadn't been able to put a name to himself. 

Then he was simply standing in a room filled with computer boards and wide-screen monitors, the former being worked by a handful of young women, the latter displaying several enormous mecha. They, like himself, were familiar, but upon closer examination there was something glaringly wrong about them that ruined the impression. 

Aside from the mechanics, four people clad mostly in white uniforms of military design stood in the center of the room, talking in low voices. A boy to the side with straight, even brown hair and haunted brown eyes; a loud, laughing boy with a bandana wrapped playfully around his forehead; a third boy with spiked green hair and earrings, wearing a vaguely sour expression; and a young woman of extraordinary beauty and even more extraordinary serenity, the only one not in the uniform. Upon his entrance, they turned to face him. 

"You're late," commented the beautiful girl with easy inflection. She was shorter than the others, but somehow dominated them all with sheer presence. Although dressed in nothing more than a glorified bathing suit, it seemed to him that she was easily the most important person present. 

He found himself saying, "I'm sorry, Teela-san. It won't happen again." 

The girl, Teela, nodded once and turned her attention to the monitors. "Then consider yourself forgiven." 

One of the men, the one with the bandana doing nothing to restrain his wild multicolored hair, complained good-naturedly, "We should have all slept in, since First is in such a good mood! I could've used another hour or two..." He yawned his way through the last few words. The girl at the computer station nearest them, wearing a uniform of creams and reds and browns and an emblem that matched the one emblazoned on the breast of his coat, kicked him in the shin. 

The tall man with the earrings commented dryly, "And a meal would've been nice too, naa, Rio?" 

"Really, Garu, how can you even say something like that? When WOULDN'T a meal be nice?!" 

The fourth watched them silently; he seemed to fade into the background with his nondescript appearance and blank expression, and his only distinguishing feature seemed to be his eyes, deep and shadowed. 

Although nobody addressed the fourth, somehow he knew that the other boy's name was Yu.   
  
Teela spoke again, cool and distant, "You can eat when we return. This is important." 

"But they're all the way out in the Far Reaches," Rio stated plaintively, and yawned again. "Why bother? There's not many people left in the Far Reaches, and they're no threat to Zion yet--" 

"The more a Victim destroys, the stronger it becomes," she reminded him. "These are only D-Type now. What if they're F-Type when they reach us?" 

Rio looked queasy. "Well, fighting even ONE Type F sucks. Maybe we can go get them tomorrow instead! Tomorrow afternoon. After lunch." 

"We'll go and get them now." Teela turned on her heel and headed for the exit. "Please, all of you be ready to depart in ten minutes. We don't have much time before a colony is put in a potentially dangerous situation." 

As she passed him, she seemed to smile faintly. "Make yourself ready," she murmured. "Erts." 

Then he was in the middle of battle, in what he instinctively recognized as a cockpit although it bore no resemblance to any cockpit he'd ever seen before, and someone was shouting from above him, "Reneighd Klein, the reading! What are the Victim doing?! Come on, Erts, give us a hand here!" 

"I've already told you," he found himself saying tensely, "they're going to strike at the K-09 colony!" 

"The K-series colonies just aren't lucky at all, are they?" another voice sounded, making the communication devices hovering above his temples glow faintly. "How many times do these guys get hit, no matter WHERE you put them?" 

"Shields at thirty-seven percent," reported the first voice, which he could now dimly recognize as that of Rio. "We take a couple more blasts head-on like this and the shields are gonna go down like tin foil." 

"What are our instructions, First?" came a resonant tenor that must've been Yu's. 

Something blurred past him so fast that he couldn't even identify it, and then there was a bizarre shrieking -- not an audible shrieking, because they were in space and physical sound did not truly exist in space, but a sound that echoed inside his bones and heart and mind, a pained, hate-filled cry. He found himself echoing it, choked and hurting without knowing why. 

"If I move from this position, the Victim will make a rush," Teela's comment returned, somehow numbing the suffering and making him shiver with delayed reaction. "Reneighd Klein. How many are left?" 

He forced himself to concentrate without even knowing how he did it, broadening his consciousness and tuning into the omnipresent and unique sounds that were space, and THIS strange act, of all things, made sense. Except that amidst the soothing, peaceful emptiness that was a life in and of itself there were three foul stains, three places where the universe broke its silence and screamed in horror at the very presence of whatever-it-was... 

"Three," he managed to say, shuddering. "There are three left." 

"There's still THREE?! Eeva Leena, what are you DOING over there with the Number Four Cannon?!" Rio squawked. Fear and determination, and resignation and stubbornness... 

"Shut UP, Agui Keimeia!" ...and fury and helplessness and a certain grim satisfaction... 

There was a sudden convulsion, and another of those surreal, piercing shrieks; a shockwave raced over him, catching his Reneighd Klein in the blast. In what seemed like a fraction of a second he frantically keyed in a command, and then they were in the maelstrom. This time the cry of pain was from his own body, reeling back through the holographic panels of his computers and slamming into the metal wall, and he knew that SHE was in pain as well because he could feel her, because he was in sync with her, but he didn't know how to make her feel better because she didn't really WANT him to. 

Yu reported, "Tellia-Kallisto: one down." 

A thin crackling came from the communication devices, then was lost again, and Rio muttered something about still being out of range of GIS. 

"There are two Victim left," Teela informed them. "We're going to use pattern 3A. Be in your places in ninety seconds." 

"Ryoukai." 

"YES! I LIKE it when we have a plan!" 

"I read you, Ernn Laties." 

The viewscreens before him showed the other four mecha twisting into formation, the blue one that he knew was Eeva Leena taking the fore, the orange Agui Keimeia behind him with the energy shield flaring outward, and the bloodred Tellia-Kallisto rocketing out of sight. He only watched them go, then withdrew without comment. His place in this was on the sidelines, keeping an eye on things without involvement. 

Never, ever to be involved. 

One of the creatures -- the source of the wrongness, the stains on the tapestry of space, the "Victim" -- slid into his field of vision. It was enormous, easily three times the size of his mecha, and reminded him of some sort of impossible jellyfish, propelling itself through the void of space and shrieking on a purely reactionary level. 

Unwillingly, he reached out to touch its essence and was instantly repelled by its burning anger and desire to savage all life; but beneath that he saw its mind, and knew that it was planning to... 

"Agui Keimeia, please shift the shields left; it will make a blow at the colony as it passes near," he said firmly, allowing his attention to focus on the other Victim. "The far Victim is headed directly for K-09; please engage, Ernn Laties." 

"Thanks, Erts!" The dozens of charged capsules around the orange mecha condensed suddenly into a tight ball, then exploded outward again at Rio's quickly-inserted commands. 

"Engaging now. Nobody disrupt the pattern, not even to chase down the Victim, until the gambit has ended. And keep your attention focused, Reneighd Klein; we'll need your input," Teela advised. 

"Understood." 

Then he was somewhere else again, collapsing from a relentless onslaught of nausea brought on by the pain of another, with screams echoing in his ears. 

* * *

Quatre Raberba Winner jerked upright, shuddering convulsively. 

"Quatre?" Trowa was kneeling next to his bed; Duo and Wufei hovered behind him, looking anxious, with Heero watching alertly in the background. What were they doing here? There were enough rooms on Peacemillion that they didn't have to share... 

"You were shouting at the top of your lungs," Duo informed him with a surprised shake of his head. "Going on about how it was your fault and you weren't good enough and stuff... What WAS that?" 

"I don't know," Quatre whispered, one hand unconsciously fisting in his nightshirt, above his heart. "It was... It was so REAL, but I was somebody else, and there were these aliens attacking the Earth, or something..." 

"Aliens attacking the Earth?" Duo's lips twitched. Even Wufei looked like he was fighting the urge to smirk. 

Quatre shook his head violently. "You don't understand! It was HORRIBLE! There was... there was..." 

It all seemed so distant and silly now, in the bright lights of a Peacemillion break room, with his friends gathered around him in concern and the final battle looming in mere hours. He had the awful sensation that it hadn't been just a dream, that he couldn't possibly have made up a universe so detailed and then only experienced fragments of it while subconscious... But he couldn't explain any of it. Not who he'd been, and why he'd been so unhappy; not the war, and how sad it was that an existence of unending struggle had become accepted as life to those poor people; not the sheer terror inspired by those creatures... 

"What do you need aliens for?" Duo was saying. "Don't we have enough trouble without going outside the human race? I mean..." He began ticking things off on his fingers. "OZ and the Romefeller Foundation and Project Meteor and White Fang and God only knows what's next... Can't we NOT bring aliens into this?" 

"Forgive me..." 

"And you're turning into WUFEI, too!" he continued energetically, ignoring it as the Chinese boy snapped to attention and glared at him. "'I'm not worthy' and 'It's all my fault' and 'Forgive me' and 'JUSTICE'--" 

Duo's words were cut off as he dropped to the floor, narrowly avoiding a fist to the jaw, and scrambled out the door with a yelp as Wufei leapt at him again. Heero followed them with one last evaluating look. 

Trowa stood and turned as if to leave also, but then asked softly, "Are you sure you're alright?" 

Already, the dream was fading. He could deal with it now. Quatre smiled up at his friend, touched by the concern from him so soon after his recovery from the amnesia that Quatre himself had been responsible for. "I'll be fine. Thank you, Trowa." 

With a solemn nod, the other boy shut off the light and left the room. 

Quatre laid himself back down and relaxed, and within moments had drifted off again, this time without dreams. 

* * *

Erts Virny Cocteau slowly opened his eyes to stare into the darkness. His memories had returned. 

"It only works for a little while," he mused wistfully. "I can only live somebody else's reality for so long before they can no longer handle mine..." 

He turned onto his side and curled up. "It's wrong, I know," he breathed to someone who could no longer hear him. "To want to be... anyone but me..." 

There were good things about being himself, but they were few and far between and so many of them were gone now. An existence without undue responsibility, a position behind the front lines of the war, a brother who had tried to shelter him, a partner who had understood him... and a pair who had really cared about him. 

All gone. 

He smiled, bitter. "Anyone but me." 

And when sleep overwhelmed him in spite of his determination to stay awake, the nightmares came again. 

~tsuzuku...~ 

* * *

There is an explanation for everything. It will all make sense sooner or later. (Later.) This will get written eventually, but it might get written faster if I get encouragement. ^_^ I promise that it's not meaningless, and it is very well-planned. Pairings will include yaoi, yuri, and het couplings -- brace yourself; some of them will be quite weird. The Gundam Wing characters don't belong to me, and neither do the Megami Kouhosei characters, but I love them all anyway. 

More to come. 

--Kay Willow, fidgeting with a thousand things at once and with three other finished MK fics still loitering on her desktop and a Zero/Erts creeping up on her... no rest for the weary!   
MK Info Site: http://flash.to/dualpotential/   
Blog: http://kay_willow.livejournal.com/   
Email: kay_willow@hotmail.com   
Contact: (AIM) Savinsilk, (MSN) see email, (Yahoo) kay_willow 


	2. Crash -- Part 1, Chapter 1

NOTES:   
This chapter evolved very quickly. I can't promise that the others will come out as fast as this one did, but we can all hope, ne? I really do love this fanfic, but I seem to have misplaced some pages from the next chapter, and if I don't find those soon, I'll have to rewrite a scene that was very difficult for me to write in the first place. That's code for "It'll take me forever". 

Anyway, this chapter features the Incident that will Begin the Crossover! After much exposition. Anybody wondering who got hurt last chapter; you're about to be enlightened. Anybody wondering about the connections between the GW boys and the MK cast; you'll have to wait until next chapter. ^_^ Sorry. Plot comes before fun. 

WARNINGS: Heavy angst and suffering. Poor Erts! Yaoi and yuri and het will all be involved in the future (the pairings won't actually be THAT weird ^^ ), and there's probably going to be violence floating around as well. 

* * *

  


Erts wished that, just once, he could wake up slowly. A gradual return to dismal reality, not a sudden smack in the face as everything surged at him all at once. 

Of course, sleep wasn't a wonderful thing either, not when it was haunted by nightmares the way his was. What he longed for was the state in between, when the dreams were melting away and the unhappiness of his existence had not yet dawned on him. He wanted to suspend time and take a few minutes to just relax. 

But he couldn't. He snapped awake and aware all at once, assaulted by impressions of who/what/where/when/why. There hadn't been a moment of peace, not for him, not ever since his brother had been killed and he'd been promoted to Pilot and what little happiness he'd managed to find for himself had been wrested away. 

Erts uncurled himself and forced his body to sit up, then ran out of energy. He gazed at the bedsheets of the enormous bed that seemed so unnecessary and empty when it only contained himself. 

"Empty," he said in a voice hoarse with sleep. 

Just like his life.   


CRASH   
[Into Me]   
by Kay Willow 

**_Part 1, Chapter 1_**   
  


"There's another four B-Type approaching from the right," Erts reported tensely, so preoccupied that he didn't even hear Rio's astonished demand for a repeat. He had his hands more than full; data scrolled up the monitors in front of him and vanished again in seconds, his mind was overflowing with excess thoughts and emotions he read from his Ingrid and his teammates and his opponents and even the planet glowing hopefully behind him, and the Victim were approaching in truly ridiculous numbers. An A-Type and two D-Type were on the scene, and two B-Type and a third D-Type had already been killed. More were still coming. It looked like the beginnings of a mixed swarm. 

Background chatter filled his ears from the open channel he had to GIS -- oh, how he wished he could shut that channel, but if he closed his connection with the Goddess Integration System vessel they'd assume that something had gone wrong and panic and THAT was the last thing he needed. He couldn't concentrate on anything for more than a second, and he hadn't looked at his visual of the battle in five minutes or more, trusting the other Pilots and his own psionic gift to keep him from getting attacked. 

He hadn't even fully recovered from YESTERDAY'S battle, and he'd been to the infirmary earlier that morning. His mind was coming very close to being fried. Erts genuinely began to wonder if he'd make it through the week with his brain intact. Between yesterday, and today, and the sheer horror of the morning...   
__

_ Heading down to the infirmary was hell at the best of times, at least for Erts. As one might expect, pain and fear had accumulated over years and years in that area of the GIS vessel, until the very metal walls had absorbed the psychic stink of suffering. A sensitive telepathist could all too easily drown in it._   
_ Erts was not only a sensitive telepathist, but he was also a young, an inexperienced, and -- both physically and emotionally -- a STRESSED telepathist. He practically reeled down the hallway, his surroundings blurring and blending like a kaleidoscopic hallucination. It was hard to breathe._   
_ Alright,> he thought as he paused to recover and collect himself. The moment I'm finished here, I'm going back to my room and taking a nap. This is definitely not normal.>_   
_ It had certainly never happened to him before. Only since he'd become a Pilot had he felt unable to find even the simplest refuge from his own EX. When he'd been a mere Candidate he had been able to shuffle the emotions and file them away, relegating them to a psychic background noise; he'd been able to take the thoughts of others and accept them as they came without cluttering his mind with them afterwards. It had all seemed very simple back then._   
_ He wondered when it had all begun to change._   


...he was rapidly heading towards critical capacity. If he wound up at the point where further mental contact would be seriously detrimental to his health and his sanity, he would not only be worthless to his companions, he would be an active hindrance. And then what was the point of his promotion at all? He was too young to be a Pilot -- only fourteen! Fourteen was the absolute minimum age to join GOA as a CANDIDATE! -- and the only reason he had been promoted in the first place was because he was a telepathist, and he had been the only telepathist in the GOA ranks who could possibly take up the space left behind by Ernest Cuore's brutal death. 

Reneighd Klein needed a telepathist to be her Pilot. She had been built solely for one, and trying to put any other kind of person inside her cockpit was akin to forcing a square peg into a round hole. And when her Pilot had been killed in battle and she had failed to protect him, Erts had been the only one who could possibly have filled the empty space that had been left behind. 

And who could've done it better? After all, Erts had been following rather helplessly in Ernest's footsteps. Just like a good little brother should. 

A bright shock of agony lanced across his mind, but it wasn't his, and for a moment Erts found the will to focus. 

"Tellia-Kallisto, what the fuck happened there? You just TOTALLY hurled yourself against the shields! You hurt?" Rio yelped into his comm unit. 

"I'm fine," came the thin answer. But he was lying. Erts could feel the pain as though it were his own. "My new automic just... shifted." 

Erts shuddered, the words automatically bringing to mind the reason he'd been going to the infirmary in the first place. 

And what he'd seen while he'd been there.   


_ Yu Hikura perched on the edge of an examination table, listening solemnly as a medic explained to him how he should take care of himself until he had fully recovered. He wore only a pair of loose silk pants, and Erts' breath caught in his throat as he saw for the first time the results of his negligence._   
_ The older Pilot's entire right side was a hideously unnatural gray-brown; scar tissue lined the edges of what had been a gaping wound only hours earlier, and the natural skin seemed to wrinkle horribly wherever the implanted skin had been soldered to it. The new flesh itself was miscolored due to the presence of the automic so close beneath the surface. The automic looked to be at least six inches long, buried under the false skin like a piece of misplaced shrapnel._   
_ Erts fought the sudden sensation of itchiness at his collarbone. The doctors had explained to him a thousand times that the automic didn't actually itch, it was only that because he KNEW that there was something unnatural underneath his skin there, his subconscious mind automatically tried to encourage him to brush it away. Erts hadn't needed them to tell him about the power of the mind._   
_ An automic is a perfectly normal thing,> he tried to remind himself. Every human being has physical imperfections, little flaws in body structure that weaken their constitution and could result in problems when placed in the high-stress position of piloting an AHW... everyone knows that, they tell you a thousand times when you're training as a Candidate for Goddess. So that's why automics are necessary, to strengthen the weak parts and replace the bad parts... But...>_   
_ It seemed so wrong, the random splotch of foulness eating away at Yu's side._   
_ "It'll fade, of course," Dr. Huan was telling him. "In a week or so the skin should become fully acclimated, and by the second week the automic will be settled in to the point where you won't notice it any more than your natural atomics. Be as careful as you possibly can about aggravating it: non-birth automics are always trickier than regular ones, and this was a rush job -- we haven't even had you for twenty-four hours yet, and already I'm sending you off again in spite of the fact that you were half-dead when you got here, against my better judgment I might add -- and if it gets shifted, then we'll have to do another surgical session to put it back into place."_   
_ Yu nodded simply and pushed himself off the edge, dropping to his feet and wincing briefly. Kazuhi stepped forward to hand him his yukata, and he nodded his gratitude again, relaxing in a strangely affectionate manner under his younger sister's worried care._   
_ Then he looked at Erts._   


"Reneighd Klein, Pilot status reports a sudden drop in energy levels; please comment." 

For a brief moment, he'd forgotten that when his stomach churned at the memory of that sickening sight, Tune's scanners would pick it up. A Repairer was responsible for her partner as well as her partner's AHW. It would be derelict of her not to investigate. 

It was her job. 

"I'm fine," Erts managed, his hands shaking as he returned them to their proper position on the consoles. "It was only a fluke, Tune-san." 

"Agui Keimeia, shield strength at half! I'm gonna need more power if we wind up dealing with all these extra Victim, GIS!" 

"I hear you, Agui Keimeia," Phil rapped out, her crisp, no-nonsense tone almost soothing to Erts' floundering mind. Vague sounds came over the GIS channel -- muted conversation, the dim typing of keys, running footsteps -- and within seconds Rio's Repairer was back at her station, reporting, "We're all clear on that. Upgrade power output on the shield to level five!" 

It was the first time Erts had ever been in a battle where Rio had needed to submit the request to raise the shields beyond the acceptable three levels. And to raise it to level five... maximum output... 

Then again, he'd also never been in a battle with so MANY powerful Victim before. 

"You know what?" Gareas gritted, speaking up for the first time that battle. "This really SUCKS. Can we get some backup going here?" 

A beep at his keyboard distracted him; Erts frowned at the location coordinates and warned, "The right four B-Type have increased velocity, and the new estimated time of arrival is in three minutes." 

"I think I'm going to be sick," Rio muttered. 

A new monitor flared on Erts' visual, and he glanced up to see Teela looking back at him. "Reneighd Klein, please request GOA to have First Troop move out," she ordered evenly. 

"Yes," he replied, feeling tired. It was only a month ago when that would've been his call to battle, instead of fighting in the whole long, drawn-out episode that had been going on for more than a half-hour already. Without another word, he keyed in the sequence to raise the volume on the GOA channel. 

"Reneighd Klein to GOA; Ernn Laties has placed the command for First Troop to move out..." Teela continued talking as he relayed that, her voice swirling over and around him like a refreshing breeze -- a little on the chilly side, but welcome nonetheless, and somehow soothing. Erts relaxed minutely as he repeated her words without thinking, the rote procedure of it settling his mind. This, at least, wasn't up to him. This he couldn't be held responsible for.   


_ "How... how is it?" Erts stuttered, almost withering under that dispassionate gaze._   
_ Yu shrugged his yukata over thin shoulders. "Uncomfortable," the quiet boy stated. "They always are." He appeared to consider, as though trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to get across in as few words as possible, and then added, "They've registered a twenty-five percent decrease in EX levels; there's no telling how much will regenerate as my body adjusts to the implant."_   
_ A full quarter drop!>_   
_ "I wanted to talk to you about your handling yesterday," Yu said coolly. "You were--"_   
_ "I'm sorry," he blurted, clenching his hands into fists and drawing them close to his sides. "This is my fault... You got hurt because of my foolishness, because I wasn't good enough. And now your EX may be greatly reduced permanently and I'm so sorry--"_   
_ "You were off-form," the other Pilot cut in. "Your reaction times were slow and you seemed on edge. Is something wrong? Are you not feeling well?"_   
_ "I... No. No, actually, but I--"_   
_ "Don't bother fretting over this." Yu touched a hand to his side. "Pilots get hurt sometimes. It's been a while since it was my turn." He shrugged, and in the same fluid gesture began striding forward. "Whatever it is you need to do to regain your equilibrium, do it," he advised as he passed. "The Victim are not always so kind."_   
_ Erts blinked. It can't be that easy,> he thought numbly as he dipped his head briefly in response to Kazuhi's polite bow. But the Hikura siblings continued down the hallway, for all the world as if the elder hadn't nearly been murdered by Erts' lapse in judgment less than a full day ago._   
_ It really had been that easy. Yu didn't even feel that an apology was necessary. Yes, he'd made a mistake, a horrible mistake, and someone had nearly died for it._   
_ But nobody had died, and they hadn't lost the battle, and Zion hadn't been destroyed._   
_ He'd made a mistake and it HADN'T been the end of the universe._   
_ And slowly he'd begun to hope... that maybe he could get used to this job after all._   


No sooner had he dared hope than the Victim had struck again. 

There was an explosion to his right, accompanied by a burst of triumph from Garu and the sudden flare and disappearance of a Victim presence. 

"Got the A-Type! Fast little bastard, but I got it!" Gareas crowed shortly thereafter, corresponding with the data racing furiously up the monitors at Erts' hands and the sensations flowering constantly in the back of his mind. The telepathist observed them shortly, checking to make certain that everything had gone as expected, and then returned his attention to his main task: gathering information. 

He checked his teammates first -- Rio's presence burning bright with frustration, Gareas' with triumph, Yu's flickering slightly with exhaustion and pain that he struggled to suppress until the end of the battle at least. Teela's aura glowed a more gentle, steady blue-green, calmer somehow and more accepting, almost unaffected by the insanely difficult battle building up around them. 

Then the planet. Zion, behind them, radiated light and warmth, sending out positive reinforcement that felt to Erts' trained senses like the nourishing rays of the sun. The comforting life-force of that beautiful globe seemed to speak to Erts, sending him images of endless yellow-green plains that almost vibrated in the stillness, or wide, clear blue ocean untouched by humanity, or mysterious jungle buzzing and singing with health... 

Distracting him. 

The faint beeping of new data intruded on the pulse of his union with his charges; Erts spared a glance for the monitor to his far right, but didn't allow himself to wander too far from his objective. There was already too much going on to permit further disturbances. He focused instead on keying the correct codes for direct GOA communication, establishing a channel to request Teela's reinforcements, a redundant but nevertheless necessary echo of a similar broadcast sent from GIS directly to GOA. 

Faintly, he felt the gel shiver against his cheek, like the caress of ghostly fingers, and Reneighd Klein murmured to him, {Did you read...?} 

Erts paused a moment, then half-turned to check that monitor again. His Goddess scrolled the constant flow of information backwards so he could see what she had referred to. 

The breath froze in his throat, fear turning his body to ice. 

"Erts-san? Erts-san, the status report is sending me mixed signals; do you need support..." 

"No!" he replied immediately, raising a shaking hand to rest at his temple, trying to aid in his grounding. "I'm fine, Tune-san, just please continue with the diagnosis." 

The speakers fell silent, and Erts gave his entire attention to the comm devices hovering above his forehead. "First," he called, keeping his voice even and his mind as shuttered as he could manage without blocking the other Pilots. "Long-range radar reads the appearance of five hundred more Victim in the Far Reaches, Type-R, estimated arrival in ten minutes--" 

"You've GOT to be KIDDING me!" Rio squawked, apparently directly into his comm device; Erts flinched from the sound, wired too tightly to process it. "What is THAT?" 

"It's a swarm," Teela said coolly. "Reneighd Klein, is the channel to GOA established?" 

"Yes," Erts replied, noting the green speaker signal tinted with the red of GOA's broadband. 

"Have them send the entire Academy out." 

He shivered uncontrollably as she began listing coordinates. The last time the entire Academy had been summoned to deal with a swarm of R-Type, his brother had died. 

In this very cockpit, no less. Right here, less than a month ago, Niisan was cut down in a situation exactly like this...> 

A vague click from the speaker, and he snapped back to himself, reciting, "This is Reneighd Klein calling for backup; Ernn Laties requests that the Academy be marshaled in defense. First Troop should remain whole and spread out across Area Orange with Pro-Ing units 01 through 05 as relay, station here..." 

He continued rattling off the coordinates, fingers blurring across the consoles as he did so, trying to get a more accurate estimate of the approaching swarm. Dimly in the background he could hear Gareas demanding to know which of the D-Types they were currently engaged with was sending out the call, and Rio informing him tensely that it could be any or all of them. 

This could be the end. This could be the final swarm. The one that will get past us and take Zion and that'll be the end of the human race...> 

"...and on the far edges of the battlefield at Area Yellow. Second Troop should divide into four 5B formations in the following patterns within Area Red..." Erts trailed off, surprised. "Area Red?" he repeated. 

The poor transmission officer, who had probably never expected to need to actually SPEAK to a Pilot, stammered uncertainly, "S... Sir? Is something wrong...?" 

"Ernn Laties, is that information correct?" Erts asked, ignoring the man. 

There was a brief pause, most likely while Teela checked her voice records to be sure she'd said what she intended, and then her terse response was, "Yes. Is there a problem, Reneighd?" 

Erts steeled himself. "As a matter of fact, there is. I have to question the wisdom of placing Second Troop on the front lines, here where the swarm will be strongest. If anyone, shouldn't it be First Troop in Area Red--" 

"No. It should not." Teela sounded no angrier or more frustrated than before, her voice remaining as even as ever; his mental connection to her revealed that, if anything, she was amused by his insubordination. "I want Second Troop to be stationed here. Understood?" 

Erts nodded reluctantly, then turned to relay the information. "Second Troop should divide into four 5B formations in the following patterns within Area Red; Groups A and B forming a blockade behind the Ingrid lines, Groups C and D--" 

In the back of his mind, Reneighd Klein practically seethed with curiosity, and he was in complete agreement with her. Teela had made a choice for which there was no logical explanation -- it was simple fact that First Troop was more experienced and competent than Second, that was why THEY were Senior Candidates, so why would Teela prefer Second Troop to back them up? Reneighd was an information-gatherer, a scout and a spy, and not knowing was distracting her. 

While Erts sympathized with her plight, he knew that he couldn't allow either of them to be distracted. As he relayed further orders to the Goddess Operator Academy, he pointedly keyed in another scan of the oncoming swarm; almost as if startled, Reneighd Klein stretched out her senses jerkily, then regained her composure and smoothed it out. 

"I can't believe I didn't notice the gathering of a swarm," Erts murmured under his breath, feeling nauseous as he watched the distant glimmerings of the R-Type horde, now barely visible in his 'sight', and somehow deathly menacing even as vague flashes of light and dark. "An entire swarm." 

{Not now, not now, think of it later,} Reneighd Klein told him breathlessly. Her presence was strained, almost nervous, and her connection with him vibrated like a too-tight wire. With every slight shift of his body, she sent out her mechanical senses in all directions, seeking with an almost paranoid need for more information. {Which Victim are they gathering around? We have to tell Teela quickly so she can direct the Pro-Ing units--} 

Erts obligingly focused on the each of the D-Type in turn, searching for the signal wave that was calling the swarm. Then he blinked, startled out of his concentration, and tried again. 

Neither of the Type-D were broadcasting. 

Uneasy, he broadened his check to include the three remaining B-Types, and got the predicted lack of response. B-Types weren't strong enough to initiate a swarm movement; they very rarely had the power to attract more than one or two others of their own kind to travel with. He read nothing from any of them beyond their own intentions. 

That was impossible -- Type-R had little true intelligence, and merely drifted, solitary and without purpose, until they were summoned together by a more advanced Victim. So one of the two Type-D HAD to be calling them, and yet Erts could sense nothing. 

{Nothing? But that's impossible.} Reneighd Klein echoed his thoughts deliberately, sounding as disturbed as he at the realization. She drew her presence closer around him, as though frightened, and sent out another scan. 

Six impossible things before breakfast,> he thought wearily. He said into the comm device, "Reneighd Klein, reporting a failure to intercept the broadcast. Permission to attempt a reading of the R-Types?" 

"This is a dream, right?" Rio demanded. "I never actually woke up this morning, I'm still dreaming, isn't that it? That's why we first have to deal with more than half a dozen upper-class Victim, and then a whole swarm of teensy little ones without a rest, and now we're talking about not even knowing HOW the R-Types are getting here? And we didn't even get to have breakfast before heading out. So this MUST be a nightmare. Any minute now Garu is going to break out in a leotard and start dancing ballet, and then Phil is going to tell me that she's running off to get married to Teela--" 

"Agui Keimeia," Phil's voice came over the GIS channel, her tone promising dire retribution. Erts thought he could hear snickering in the background, and Tune sounded like she was trying to muffle laughter directly into her control panel. "Please SHUT THE HELL UP so your BLATHER doesn't block the communication channels." 

"Reneighd Klein, permission is granted," Teela's voice shattered the misplaced amusement with all the effectiveness of a spray of gunfire. "Which Victim is summoning the swarm, and where are they planning to go?" 

Erts closed his eyes and stretched his awareness out to the Victim ahead of him, feeling his Goddess gather herself behind him in support, encouragement and confidence in her nonphysical caress. There wasn't love or pride, like he knew she had felt for his brother, but Tune had been certain that those things would come in time. 

Making contact with a Type-R Victim was very different from contact with other forms of Victim. R-Types were mindless, somewhat confused creatures. Unlike most other types of Victim, they weren't filled with rage and hatred, but -- like their more advanced cousins -- merely existing hurt them on a level that Erts couldn't understand at all. 

It was easy to hold himself beyond an R-Type, really child's play to keep from losing the distinction between IT and HIM. After all, one couldn't get lost in something that had nothing. 

*mustgoforwardmustgoforwardandthenwewillbefed,wewillbesated,wewillbeabletorest,* was the only thought running through its mind, a single continuous impression of motivation. 

Erts shook his head in frustration. ~gowhere?~ he asked it subliminally, carefully interjecting the thought on a level where it would be unable to sense his presence, but where it would still feel the query's influence. 

*mustgomustgoforwardmustgotozion* 

That had NEVER happened before. 

Erts was shocked from his focus for the second time in five minutes. 

{Erts? What did it say?} Reneighd Klein fussed invisibly, insufferably curious and terribly impatient. 

"It... it said it wanted to go to Zion," he whispered, stunned. 

"What was that?" Teela demanded sharply, and Erts winced. He hadn't meant for her to hear that, had wanted to phrase it better before forwarding the message to his commanding officer, but she'd somehow heard him. "Repeat that, Reneighd Klein!" 

"Communication with the Victim revealed only a desire to go forward, to Zion," he repeated louder. 

Silence from the scanners, quivering in the air above his temples like leaves battered by the breeze. 

Erts added hesitantly, "Of course, this is highly irregular. R-Types are directed solely by the will of a higher-class Victim, they have no will or desires of their own. It simply isn't possible for them to want to go to Zion, or to WANT anything... They're just not intelligent enough to do it on their own." His voice wavered at the end, sounding weak and lame, but there was really nothing that could be said. 

Teela said nothing for a long moment. Then she said neutrally, "How much longer until the arrival of the new swarm?" 

He checked the ever-scrolling information all around him, unconsciously searching out the correct line of data, then said, "Approximately five minutes remaining." 

"And how much longer until the arrival of the reinforcements from GOA?" 

"First Troop in two minutes, Second and High Third in approximately five." 

Space was no barrier between Erts and the others; there was nothing to dampen his connection to thoughts the and feelings that radiated constantly from all living things. But for some reason, he felt nothing from his companions -- the absence of emotion, an emptiness that radiated through all of them momentarily. Erts subconsciously shied away from that hopeless void, retreating into the protective embrace of Zion; the planet reached out for him and soothed him, offering him visions of the beauty and life that awaited him if only he could find a way there, someday... 

Teela said simply, "This could be trouble." 

He had never heard her speak that word before. 

"Everyone, spread out. The First Troop will be making an boundary line soon enough so we won't need to worry about letting the Victim escape; when the swarm gets here, take out as many of them as you can! If the R Type have somehow managed to learn independence, then we're going to have to kill them all." 

The concept of killing five hundred Type-R -- a small amount, considering the size of the swarms they usually traveled in, but still FIVE HUNDRED -- sickened Erts to the core. It would mean hours of hacking away at what were essentially creatures too stupid to do anything but what they'd been told to do. 

Erts closed his eyes and focused for a moment on the brilliant sphere of blues and greens that they fought so hard, so endlessly to protect, and let Zion speak to him. 

His serenity was shattered after what seemed like only a fraction of a second as an intrusive, alien presence made itself known to his sensitive EX; he jerked back to full awareness and realized suddenly that the battle had progressed without him. Reneighd Klein had monitored everything the whole way, but apparently Zion had been so distracting that he hadn't noticed the passage of several minutes in this critical battle. The swarm was to either side of him, and he could see Pro-Ings battling them, and a D-Type Victim was heading straight for him. 

Erts fired his sole weapon instinctively, and the Victim reared its head and screamed inside his mind, broadcasting its pain and suffering directly to him as though aware that he was a telepathist. But his gatling was weak and ineffective against a Victim of this class -- and most Victim; Reneighd Klein was intended to be an observer, never actually participating in the battle itself, and her weaponry was a last resort only -- and it recovered while Erts still reeled from its shriek of pain. 

Before it could take advantage of his distraction, Agui Keimeia was between them, personal shields at center and driving the Victim away with powerful magnetic currents. Rio's concern and determination eclipsed the Victim's fury, granting Erts a momentary respite in which to recover his equilibrium. 

Erts observed absently that the shaking of his hands had grown much worse in that short few seconds; Reneighd Klein's sync allowed her to ignore the typos in his rapid-fire commands and obey his intentions instead, but if he were using a simpler machine he would have been in a great amount of trouble. 

"The swarm is going to shift to the rightmost edge of Area Red," he reported thinly, feeling Yu's momentary distress at the prospect. "Agui Keimeia, please shield the perimeter to avoid overlap into Area Orange." 

"I read you," Rio responded immediately, and within seconds Agui Keimeia was gone again. 

Drawing back to avoid engaging with the D-Type again, Erts sought Teela's lifeforce and fled in that direction. The necessity of spreading out to battle an entire swarm had left him vulnerable; he needed to rejoin with one of the more battle-capable Ingrids to focus on everyone, secure in the knowledge that he was protected. His connection with Zion seemed as stable as ever, but the rest of his mind was stretched out blindly across the blankness of space, and to process the information he was receiving from the areas that were NOT blank, he had to-- 

"Erts!" came a familiar voice. "You here to help out?" 

...Zero?> 

Erts blinked at the Pro-Ing division arrayed before him, struggling with three B-Types and a small band of R-Types. He hadn't realized Zero was with the Second Troop. And... Puzzled, he reached out again for Teela. She was a league apart from his current location, chipping away at the massive numbers of the Type-R on her half of the field. 

How did THAT happen?> he wondered, panic rising in his body in almost physical waves. I focused on Teela, I KNOW I did, and I went towards that sensation, I KNOW I did, but somehow I'm here, across Area Red, with the Pro-Ing troop!> 

"Erts-san, do you need support?" Tune demanded again, more firmly this time, as if becoming more and more sure that he needed help with every message. 

And,> Erts was willing to admit, she may be right.> But out loud he addressed Zero, saying, "I'm sorry; coming over here was an accident. I have to leave now--" 

"What, just like that?" Zero demanded in return, cheerful as ever, casually firing his rifle and taking out one of the remaining B-Types. "We're friends, right? You don't need to run like I'm out to attack you, for crying out loud." Almost as an afterthought, he reported his kill. 

Maybe it's this easy for YOU, but I can't DO my job if I'm distracted, Erts wanted to shout at him. His fingers were still trembling on the panels arranged on the insides of his Goddess, who murmured soothingly in his ear while taking in the movements of the Pro-Ing units with eternal inquisitiveness. He murmured, "I'm sorry, Zero. The swarm will be shifting this way any moment now, so you should brace yourselves for an attack on your nearest flank from the JS Quadrant, but that's all the help I can give you because I really have to go find Teela-san..." 

"The Pilot of the White Goddess, right?" The older boy's mind quieted in reverence for a moment, his thoughts a whispered circle of memory and gratitude and ambition and determination. Zero's only aspiration in life, it sometimes seemed to Erts, was to be near Ernn Laties. Then he was suddenly normal again, and saying enthusiastically, "Well, where is she? I'll be escort, if it's nearby." 

"It's NOT," Erts said shortly. In the space of an instant, he heard Gareas thinking Now is the time if I strike now I can take down this D-Type> and the Victim's sense of triumph as it observed his preparations, and without allowing his own mind to enter into the equation he cried, "Gareas-san, you can't! It knows!" 

Then from Gareas' mind came rapidfire recognition and realization and frustrated acceptance, followed by the Victim's dismay, and then pain as a Pro-Ing attacked it from behind. Relieved, Erts returned the foremost of his attention to Zero, repeating, "It's not nearby. She's in AD Quadrant--" 

"AD Quadrant?! That's almost totally OPPOSITE us here in TK," Zero said accusingly, thinking strongly of the field map in demonstration, as if Erts didn't have his own chart on one of the many data screens swimming around his field of vision. "Now I HAVE to escort you. No WAY you can make it past the bulk of the swarm on your own." 

"I can avoid--" 

"Don't be a fool, you can't avoid them all, and Heltage only has that little gun, right?" 

"Well, yes, but..." Erts trailed off. "What did you call Reneighd Klein?" He could feel that his Goddess was as startled as he was; the gel suspending him quivered with shock and something almost like pleasure at Zero's comment. 

Zero didn't answer him, saying instead, "Candidate #88 to GOA, reporting temporary leave to escort Ingrid Reneighd Klein to AD Quadrant; Yamagi, you cover for me until I get back, hear?!" 

Further disorientation struck him like a physical blow as Erts noticed his former pair's phrasing: REPORTING leave, not REQUESTING it. He was missing something here, something important... 

"All right, Erts; we're clear, let's go," Zero said simply. The boosters of his Pro-Ing flared into life, and he shifted the personal shield from his back to his arm in preparation. "Connecting, okay?" 

Erts blinked again as Tune told him -- sounding somewhat surprised, as her attention had not been focused on his personal conversation before -- "A request has come through for direct visual contact from Candidate #88. Should I... allow it to go through, Erts-san?" 

"Yes," he hurried to reassure her, "he's a friend." The windows he already had up shuffled themselves around to make room for the new monitor that suddenly snapped open, Zero's face square in the center. Erts had to turn slightly to see it fully, as it popped up on the edges of his immediate visual. 

Zero didn't look any different at all, Erts realized with some surprise. For some reason, he'd expected to find that his friend had somehow grown to match this unfamiliar strength. 

But then... perhaps it was only because he'd never seen Zero in true battle before. 

"I'll lead, you follow; you can act as support and warn me if something's coming. Okay?" Zero rattled off easily over their new channel, keying in commands and maneuvering his Pro-Ing easily in the void of space. 

For whatever reason, that simple detail enabled Erts to relax all at once. The first time he'd ever felt Zero's mind, the new Candidate's presence had been tainted with the effects of his phobia of zero-gravity, and as they'd become close Erts had watched as that phobia dwindled away into nothing. They KNEW each other. Zero wouldn't let him get hurt, because they were friends, and nothing had changed between them now that Erts was a Pilot, because they were friends; this situation was familiar and encouraging, and it was with a rare sense of serenity that Erts relinquished independence and allowed Zero to take control. 

"Yes," he said, smiling. "That's okay with me." 

They zipped across the battlefield, their private channel always filled with words: Erts reporting on nearby Victim, or Zero recommending a new course, or just normal conversation -- at least, as normal as conversation got when interspersed with life-or-death emergency communications with Ingrid Pilots struggling to save the human race. Zero turned out to have been correct; the way the swarm was turning, around AD Quadrant, there was no way to get to Teela except to go through the swarm. Between them they found a relatively low-populated route, and between them they made it to the other side unscathed. 

It was when the brilliant white form of Ernn Laties was within visual that everything suddenly went wrong. 

Their private channel was taken down once they were within easy comm range of the other Ingrids. Zero reported lightheartedly that he'd delivered Reneighd Klein to her destination safely, but was denied permission to return; according to First the swarm was intensifying in their area, and no one was to enter or leave until it had shifted again. Erts confirmed her analysis and estimated a ten minute wait before the Victim turned to a new direction. 

Zero accepted the news readily enough and went to join the Pro-Ing squad that had arrived with Eeva Leena, moments after their own arrival; Erts watched him go regretfully, but was immediately joined by Gareas, who reassured him distractedly that there was no need to get Candidates to protect him when the other Pilots would naturally do the same. 

Then, without warning, a vivid shriek ripped open Erts' mind and he cried out in unison with the D-Type Victim that was not supposed to be on the battlefield. 

But it was. 

And he had never once received a hint of its presence. 

A sonic blast surged into a direct collision with his Ingrid; and again Erts found himself screaming, but this time the pain was his own as well as hers and there had been no chance to free himself from the zeta skin before the contact and he could FEEL her armor chip and break away under the attack because his flesh was torn away in the same places. The agony drowned out everything else. 

And then the energy was gone again, Reneighd Klein knocked out of the way by the force of the attack itself. 

Erts could never be quite sure what happened in the next few moments, entombed as he was in his own hurt and HER hurt and the now-bloody gel that held him firmly in place even though he wanted nothing more than to sink to the metal below him and curl up around his injuries. He had severed all his connections in the moment of his pain; a reflex gesture to prevent others from suffering just in case he should lose his control and broadcast. 

The only thing he could feel was that one critical factor which enabled him to feel in the first place -- EX. 

And in that next moment, he felt three distinct minds come alight with EX. 

And then they merged into one. 

And after that, the universe stopped. 

* * *

Cliffhanger! Yes, I'm evil, why do you ask? 

--Kay Willow, who hasn't yet finished the next chapter and is probably done with her little burst of productivity   
MK Info Site: http://flash.to/dualpotential/   
Blog: http://kay_willow.livejournal.com/   
Email: kay_willow@hotmail.com   
Contact: (AIM) Savinsilk, (MSN) see email, (Yahoo) kay_willow 


	3. Crash -- Part 1, Chapter 2

  
NOTES:   
Tired of a sudden plethora of medieval AUs? Tired of mindless romance? Tired of fanfics that don't know what they're talking about? Tired of OOC fanfics, or "fanfics" as the case may be, and endless gushing about "Hiead-sama"? 

...Oh, you're not? 

Well, Kay Willow has returned with a fic that is none of those things ANYWAY. Here we are with more of the GW/MK crossover that refuses to go medieval, except on _your ass_ if you don't read! That will involve only mindFUL romance! (Or something.) That will understand the universe of MK and GW, not to mention the laws of effect, consequence, and Murphy! That promises not to go [too blatantly] OOC, and will treat Hiead like HIEAD, because if Kay dared to drool on him, he would break her neck in six different places, and she likes living! 

WARNINGS: er. Bit of violence in this part. More suffering. Lots of trouble. Veeeery busy this chapter. And you, personally, will probably have no idea what's going on here. But it's going on without you. Future yaoi and yuri AND het. 

* * *

CRASH   
[Into Me]   
by Kay Willow 

**_Part 1, Chapter 2_**

One moment, the Gundam pilots had been mere seconds away from the final battle. One moment, they had faced a battalion of mobile dolls primed to maximum by their hidden controller, with the Epyon, the Tallgeese, and the immense threat of the Libra compounding the problem into one almost certain suicide run. For one moment, the five Gundam pilots had finally found it within themselves to stand firm, together after a year of blundering errors and learning how to trust, and they stood united against what they knew would be the death of them... but it would be worth it, if only the war would end and Earth be saved. 

That had been one moment. 

This was the next. 

The battlefield had shifted before his eyes, accompanied by a thinly distressed shriek as Sandrock's navigational systems failed to identify his location: the countless sea of stars beyond him had altered configuration ever so subtly to his mere mortal vision; the lifeless olive-colored mobile suits replaced with larger silver-gray mecha, each, as his trained eye could discern easily, moving under with its own will; the looming white hulk of Peacemillion had vanished from their backs; Epyon's menacing crimson presence had split into three distinct Gundam-like shapes, painted in far less foreboding shades of white and blue and green. 

Also, there was a teeming mass of SOMETHING on the edge of Quatre's vision, retreating rapidly. 

He could hear muttered exclamations of stunned surprise from his fellow Gundams, and felt reassured by their presence. Instinctively he drew closer to them, and they did the same almost in unison. They were finally united, finally five segments of the same unit... but what WAS this new challenge? 

"What the fuck is going on?" Duo demanded under his breath. 

To Quatre's surprise, that exact sentiment was echoed, much louder and in the voice of a stranger, only moments afterwards. The voice came from his speakers, so its owner had to be on the battlefield with them -- otherwise the Minovsky particles generated by their nuclear reactors would surely mangle the radio waves beyond recognition -- but before he could say anything, ask where they were and whose side these newcomers were on, the other person continued in an increasingly agitated voice. 

"Hey, First! #88 reporting: I don't know WHAT happened after that explosion, but my contact with GOA has gone all fuzzy, and I can't get through to my Repairer. Requesting feedback--" 

"#87, reporting similar transmission problems," interrupted another voice. "Permission to return to my troop--" 

"All Candidates are to cease external communication immediately," cut in a third person, cool and unruffled and distinctly female. "Please exercise caution; we have entered a dangerous situation. Erts, relay the orders to the distant units." 

Quatre's heart leapt into his throat. 

He recognized that voice. He recognized that NAME. 

He'd forgotten the dream he'd had earlier that day, had woken up from his power nap afterwards completely refreshed and unable to recall the nightmare that had made the others race in to check up on him. It wasn't the first time something like that had happened to him; on the contrary, it had started almost a month ago, while he and Heero had been staying at the Sank Kingdom's pacifism school -- he could still clearly remember, because Heero had assumed he was convulsing for some reason and jumped on top of Quatre while he'd still been asleep, and then had nearly shot Noin when she came in to see what all the screaming was about -- but he could never remember the dreams. It seemed like something that came and went; some alternate awareness that was there in one moment and gone in the next. 

But that name brought it all back to him. 

The woman was Teela. She was the leader of the Goddess Pilots, and those three great Gundam-like forms were the 'Goddesses', the colloquial name for the mecha known as Ingrids, although Quatre had the uncomfortable awareness that the term 'Goddess' was not altogether inappropriate. The planet that glowed gently in the darkness seemed exactly the same but inexplicably different, and Quatre knew that it was because that planet was not Earth, but Zion. 

It hadn't been a dream. Somehow he'd known that it had never been a dream. 

"Reneighd Klein, please answer," Teela insisted, and Quatre realized with some alarm that Erts -- the boy he'd been, the boy he'd somehow traded PLACES with -- had never responded to her call. Once more, she received no reply. He heard muttered cursing over the speakers at the ominous silence. 

Teela seemed unfazed. Her voice was even and controlled as she stated, "Cockpit voice record system activated. In absence of contact with the command ships, I, Teela Zain Elmes, Pilot of Ernn Laties, am the highest authority. Five foreign vessels have appeared on the battlefield in the wake of an EX collision involving myself and Candidates Number 87 and Number 88, and they have not identified themselves. I will assume that they are unable to contact us and take appropriate action." 

Quatre started guiltily, realizing that they'd remained silent this whole time, listening in on the transmissions going on around them. And, he figured furthermore, the others had probably been taking their cues from him, and it was his own shock that had kept them all quiet. 

He began to stammer out an embarrassed disclaimer, but Heero beat him to it. Unfortunately, Heero was... Heero. 

"We can hear you perfectly well," the other boy said coolly. "Who are you? Are you with Zechs or Treize?" 

"With WHO?" demanded a gruff male voice, one that Quatre instantly recognized as belonging to the Pilot of the bluish Ingrid, which was called Eeva Leena. What was his name... Garas? Garu? That's it, and his full name was Gareas.> He also remembered, with some trepidation, that this man was not a patient and accepting man. "You flop down in the middle of our territory -- in the middle of our battlefield, as a matter of fact -- and demand to know which of two men we've never heard of we're fighting for? Who the FUCK do you think you are?" 

"Ah, please!" Quatre jumped in quickly before one of his friends could say something they'd regret. "We are Gundam pilots, and up until a few minutes ago, we'd been fighting more or less non-stop for several days against the forces of White Fang, led by a man named Zechs Marquise, which were trying to win the independence of the colonies from their home planet by destroying the planet. Am I correct to assume that we're no longer anywhere near Earth and this battle?" 

"Quatre, do you know what you're doing?" Wufei demanded quietly. Quatre glanced over at the Chinese boy's screen to find those black eyes boring into him. "You tell them everything--" 

"This is so totally ABSURD!" Gareas snapped. "Gundams? White Fang? EARTH? That's the most transparent lie I've ever heard! They're obviously trying to put one over on us. Rio, Yu, are you guys hearing this crap?" 

Silence. Gareas cursed. Quatre realized with some alarm that in the... whatever that had carried him and his companions to this place, a large amount of the Minovsky particles that littered his universe had been taken along for the ride. And as every schoolchild knew, the Minovsky particles generated by mobile suit power cores had the ability to cloud and eventually totally obscure long-range radar of all sorts... and long-range radio waves as well. 

Quatre prudently decided not to inform Gareas that the severed communication was the fault of the Gundams. 

Then Teela spoke again. A few simple words, delivered in a voice perfectly neutral and totally superior, as though she were already sure of the answer: "What is your name?" 

"Okay, lady," Duo spat, bristling audibly, "I'm very sorry, but this is where we draw the cooperation line--" 

"Quatre Raberba Winner." He absorbed the shock of his companions without comment. They didn't understand yet. It didn't matter what they told these people. This was not the same place that they lived in. They were in no danger of losing their anonymity to people who came from -- at the very least -- another solar system completely. "My name is Quatre Raberba Winner." 

"I see." She sounded curious. "I see." 

"You SEE?" Gareas demanded. "What's there to SEE? You can't BELIEVE them!?" 

"Eeva Leena, please go to FL Quadrant and find out why Agui and Tellia have lost communication; inform all units along the way that they are to return to GOA immediately," Teela ordered crisply. 

"But--" 

"The enemy is gone. There's no point in lingering here." Quatre could feel her attention fixing on them again. "We have a new issue now." 

Quatre noticed Trowa out of the corner of his eye, attempting to get a visual lock on whatever channel the others were using; from the vague frustration etched in the quiet boy's face, he wasn't having much luck figuring it out. Moving slowly, as if certain that their every move were being watched, Heero began to lend his efforts to the cause. Quatre nodded discreet approval of their efforts, and won a brief smile from Trowa for his support. 

"Ah, if I may be allowed to ask, First--" 

"Go ahead, Candidate 88," Teela said, a trace of amusement and something oddly affectionate in her voice, the first emotion that Quatre had heard from her, and which seemed extremely unusual to his odd, disjointed half-memories of this universe. 

"What about Erts?" the voice demanded earnestly. "He's not responding to any of our calls, he hasn't spoken or moved since he was attacked, and he's clearly in no condition to be going anywhere without help." 

"Good point. 88, 87, you two are to help bring Reneighd Klein back to GIS. I think we'll need to talk to you as well." 

"Yes, sir!" 

"Understood." 

"Eeva Leena. Why are you still here?" For a single startled moment, there was absolute stillness in the wake of Teela's icy comment, and then the blue mecha recoiled as if struck, turned around, and zipped off without another word. 

"Damn, this woman's like a less human version of Treize," Duo muttered. Quatre clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle startled laughter. 

"And you," the chilly voice said, like vocal daggers penetrating skin. His amusement froze under that regard. "Gundam Pilots. You will come with us. Our communications are down, so we'll have to return to GIS before getting any sort of orders on what to do with you." 

"Or maybe Heero," Duo amended. 

Quatre sighed. He was starting to get a headache. "Of course we'll come, Teela-san," he assured her. Accepting this answer, the White Ingrid turned and addressed the other units on the battlefield, giving them the command to return to GOA -- the Goddess Operator Academy, Quatre's subconscious mind prompted him -- or follow her to GIS -- the Goddess Integration System. 

While he pondered that, Wufei gave him a curious look. "Of course we'll come," he repeated mildly. Quatre could feel his confusion and frustration, and also the massive restraint he was exercising to keep it in check. "Is there any particular reason why this is a natural conclusion?" 

Oddly touched by Wufei's unwillingness to be harsh to him, the Arabian boy smiled encouragingly. "I feel like I know these people," he said, one hand raising to his flight-suit, above his heart. "I've never met them before today, but I know them, and I know they won't betray us." 

After a startled moment, the angry emotions slowed and calmed. Wufei relaxed and nodded. "I think you're correct. They won't betray us." 

Pleased (if slightly puzzled) by the easy acquiescence, Quatre returned his attention to Teela, who had begun moving off with an entourage of a half-dozen of the gray mecha (Pro-Ings), two of which were toting carefully between them the battered green shape that Quatre knew had to be Reneighd Klein. Inside that Goddess, that boy... 

"I'm turning off the navigational systems," Heero announced flatly. It didn't occur to him to ask how Heero had gotten the override codes for each of their Gundams. "Brace yourselves." 

The incessant, whining beeps of the confused nav-computer suddenly came to a dead halt. Quatre jerked forward against the safety belt as the piloting interface went momentarily blank from the transition, and then Sandrock was back in his control, fully manual. He laid a hand gently on the control panel in silent apology for the brutal shift that had left his Gundam blind and lame, but Heero had done the right thing. 

"Sorry, old pal," Duo said conversationally to his own Deathscythe, "but I'm with them on this one. Your shrieking was pounding nails into my skull." 

"I hope you're not mistaken, Quatre," Heero intoned. Quatre heard the challenge in that statement and turned to meet the other boy's evaluating stare -- that stare that so many people foolishly assumed was cold or unemotional when Heero was crafted of the same living flesh and bone that they themselves were -- with resolution. He was not mistaken. 

Heero nodded once and turned back to the task of flying. 

"I still don't trust them," Duo said suspiciously once he'd noted Quatre's victory in that half-hearted match of wills. "Why are we listening to them? Why are we going with them? Why are we giving them all our secrets? How do we know that--" 

"These people are from my dream," Quatre interrupted. Silence fell over their communication channels; he could feel the other four radiating disbelief at the very concept. He stared forward without flinching, confident in this, which he knew in a way that none of them could possibly know. "I've seen them all before, and I know their names, and some of their situations. These people wouldn't betray us, even if they could. And they couldn't. I don't think they're from the same plane as we are." 

Another pause. Then Duo drawled dryly, "Riiight. Okay, so they're from a parallel universe. Whatever you say. But that doesn't change the fact that we need to go HOME, like, NOW, because we can't afford to be having tea and chatting with these people as meanwhile, Zechs' Libra is tearing jagged chunks out of the Earth!" 

"She's tuning into our channels," Trowa warned, a trace of amazement in his voice. 

No sooner had he said so than an image of Teela blipped into existence on the visual. Duo muttered an awed curse under his breath and then promptly shut up as the woman -- girl? she looked no older than they did, but somehow seemed so much older -- began to speak. 

"Quatre Raberba Winner, as you have volunteered yourself as spokesman for your group, you will be held accountable for anything that may happen between now and contact with our superiors on GIS. I assume that you would like to know something about us now. We are--" 

"Please, there's no need for formalities," Quatre interjected politely but firmly, and once again had to ignore the incredulous regard of his friends. But he already knew all the information that she would've given them, and one thing he'd learned from his father was that in politics, and in business, and in war, you never let your enemy know that you were ignorant. Besides, maybe if the others didn't KNOW anything, it would keep them tame long enough to start off this... whatever-it-was without any unpleasant incidents. 

The others didn't contradict him, to his relief. He didn't want them to appear, on top of everything else, to be at odds with each other. 

He continued, "Since first priority is to get aid to your wounded Pilot, it would be best if we simply hurried along, so perhaps we could just stick to the current situation?" 

Teela almost smiled. "Very well. At approximately 0500 hours this morning we received long-range radar confirmation of the presence of Victim traveling through the Far Reaches at high velocity. Their arrival at Zion was extrapolated to 1100 hours; we decided to meet them halfway. At precisely 0800 hours this morning the Five Goddess met the Victim in proximity to the G-14 colony. By 0900 hours an R-Type swarm was confirmed, and the upper echelons of GOA had been called out to help with containment." 

"I am SO lost," Duo said under his breath. Heero, on the other hand, had seemed more at ease the moment Teela began rattling off her facts, no doubt putting himself in her position and imagining the scenario as it panned out, and probably learning enough about this universe in the process that he could fill in some of the things that QUATRE was unsure of. 

"Minutes ago, the Victim that commanded the swarm struck directly at Reneighd Klein. I attacked it, and my EX combined with that of Candidates 87 and 88, and killed the Top more or less instantly." 

That's the end of the swarm,> Quatre thought to himself, shaking his head in vague surprise at the seemingly endless amount of knowledge that he hadn't even realized he possessed. A swarm of R-Types is motivated by a Top Victim, and if that Victim dies then the swarm returns to thousands of scattered and singular and, more importantly, DORMANT R-Types. They don't move unless something comes into contact with them, because they'll attack anything that touches them but otherwise won't move. Once the Top is killed, the whole swarm simply stops, and they can be picked off one by one at leisure from there on in.> 

So where were all the dormant R-Types? 

"However, the combination of our EX powers clearly had an unintended effect. The reason has not yet been ascertained, but there seemed to be some sort of explosion, and when it cleared, you were there." She continued to sound perfectly neutral, as if this was not a curious event at all and she had no interest in finding out the reasons why. "The explosion frightened away the R-Types. They scattered, and the firing line kept them from Zion. They should all have retreated beyond the Far Reaches by now." 

Quatre nodded, filing this information away, but before he could ask a question, a sudden burst of static over his speakers made him flinch. 

"... read... ...GIS... ...me, Ernn..." 

"The GIS connection is restoring," one of the people in the gray mecha observed. 

The gray mecha are called Pro-Ings; their specs are similar to the Virgo II's... Their pilots are called Candidates, not Pilots, because there are only five Goddesses to be Piloted...> 

"...is GIS, do you read me, Ernn Laties..." 

"GIS, this is Ernn Laties; I read you," Teela replied coolly. Her visual switched off and, oddly, their main audio as well. Apparently Teela didn't want them to hear what she was saying. 

Quatre let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. 

"Well, that was really fucking weird," Duo commented amiably. "But not really any more so than anything else that's happened since we launched earlier this morning." 

"There's no time differential," Trowa observed. "It's still early morning here, just as it was when we left Peacemillion." 

"Time IS relative in space, you know--" 

Wufei crossed his arms and sighed. "I hope you're planning on explaining all of this, Quatre," was his only comment. 

Feeling a bit guilty now for withholding the information, the blond said, "The moment we have a chance." 

Ahead of them, behind three waiting Goddesses in shades of red and blue and yellow, was a slim tower of gray -- GIS, their destination. 

* * *

There was a bit of trouble while they were docking; GIS was not a big ship, and about a quarter of its space was comprised of tunnels and maintenance hangars for the Goddesses, and there was barely enough room for that. It only had a very tiny bay for Pro-Ing containment, intended only for emergencies like this one, and after nearly ten minutes of debate, the technicians decided that the Gundams would go there temporarily (they would just barely fit) and the Pro-Ings would be towed manually to GOA, which GIS would be joining up with shortly. 

Quatre didn't quite understand why, but the news that GOA and GIS would be reuniting caused a great commotion from the Candidates and Pilots around him. 

Waiting for them -- rather impatiently -- on the catwalk was a slender young woman who Quatre recognized after only a moment's thought. Phil Phleira Deed, redheaded and redblooded, the Repairer for Agui Keimeia and Rioroute Vilgyna's partner. She stood with arms crossed, legs spread, and head tilted defiantly upwards to glare at the newcomers. 

"Hurry up," she called, tapping her foot. "We're in the middle of a crisis here." After only a fraction of a second to allow them to respond to this information, she turned sharply on her heel and hurried towards the far door. 

Quatre blinked. Beside him, Duo muttered, "Geez. Bossy much?" Heero ignored him, following in the girl's footsteps close enough to make her walk faster with something almost like nervousness; Quatre shrugged and hurried after them. 

She hesitated in front of the door. "You'll have to fend for yourselves." Phil cast them a dark look over her shoulder. "It's going to be a bit messy on the outside." 

They emerged from the small, peaceful hangar into chaos. 

"What do you mean, the code lock is jammed?!" 

"Access to psionic inducers is being blocked; the commands won't go through!" 

"Somebody cut the third and fourth pressure seals!" 

"It's no good; the cockpit won't open!!" 

Phil cried, "What, STILL?" and darted ahead. She was instantly lost in the throng of panicking technicians that crowded the maintenance bay. Voices boomed over loudspeakers, biting out orders that never seemed to have any effect. The action was centered around the Ingrid called Reneighd Klein, green and lighter-built than the others, but badly damaged in the attack. 

"What's going on here?" Trowa demanded, soft voice barely audible above the tumult. 

Quatre's eyes were drawn to a handful of people that stood in a tiny clearing before the green mecha, somewhat akin to the calm before the eye of the storm; three men and five women (including the recently-arrived Phil) who had all featured at one time or another in his dreams. They were the Pilots and the Repairers of these giant mecha -- Ingrids, he had to remember to call them Ingrids -- and as soon as he identified them he realized who was missing, and what had happened, as vividly as though he were dreaming as Erts even still. 

"He's still in there," Quatre breathed, and the others leaned in closer to hear him. He didn't notice. "Reneighd Klein won't let him out." 

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, SHE WON'T LET HIM OUT?!" 

The cry tore through the air, shattering the tension and drawing everyone's attention to a single boy, strong-arming his way through the masses. Quatre realized, to his startlement, that he didn't know this boy, and with his wild brown hair and familiar black-and-white uniform he knew he'd have remembered -- one of the Candidates, he must be. In his wake trailed four boys in the same uniform, most of them looking very uncertain as the fever-pitch of tension dimmed and paused, all eyes on them. 

"I ... I don't think we're supposed to be here," one of them whispered, voice breaking like a gunshot in the stillness. 

"Where the fuck is Erts?!" the boy in the lead bellowed heedlessly. His voice was the same of Candidate Number 88 from earlier. 

After another stunned silence, the man called Gareas snarled, "It's YOU!" 

Teela stepped in front of her comrade and extended her hand, pointing to the unreadable figure of Reneighd Klein. "He's there," was all she said, watching the Candidate closely. 

That boy in the lead slowed and looked up. "In her? Still?" he asked dubiously. 

Without realizing it, Quatre had traveled, pushing past the mechanics and the technicians until he stood directly before the Pilots and their immediate entourage. He was so close that he almost imagined he could see something curious -- or hopeful -- in Teela's eyes as she answered. 

"Erts is unconscious. And Heltage is afraid, because only weeks ago she lost her previous Pilot in exactly the same way." 

"Heltage?" the orange-clad Rioroute repeated blankly. 

Ignoring him, Teela continued explaining, "He's bleeding heavily, and she believes that if he leaves the encompassing gel of the cockpit, he'll bleed to death. It's not true, but she won't listen to us. She won't allow us to take care of him." 

The Candidate's hands clenched helplessly, along with Quatre's. How can we help him? They can't force a Goddess to do anything, so nothing can be done until Erts regains consciousness and directs her to let him go...> 

"Quatre, what are you doing, making a weird situation weirder by acting like you've been possessed?!" Duo hissed as the other Gundam pilots appeared at his side. "Really, I swear, Howard slipped something into our coffee before we went out, and now we're all having one giant hallucination and Zechs and Treize are going to bust in here any second now and KILL all our tripped-out asses--" 

"What will you do?" Teela asked evenly, apparently ignoring everyone else entirely. 

The stranger assumed a fighting stance and laughed shortly. "I'll make her listen." 

Then he shoved his way past the Pilots and down the catwalk to Reneighd Klein. 

"What does he think he's going to do, pry open the cockpit with his bare hands?" Rioroute muttered skeptically to Phil, at his side. 

She shook her head mutely, but Gareas had an answer. "This is the kid who just FELL into my Eeva Leena THROUGH the safety rail," he snapped. "Let's NOT underestimate his capacity for screwing things up. Somebody get him AWAY from there..." 

One of the two women at the control panel -- the blond -- made an aggravated gesture and called after the boy, "It doesn't work that way when a Pilot's already inside, Number 88--!" 

But before she could finish that sentence, the seals locking the cockpit closed released, and with only a metallic squeal and the hiss of air rushing in to mark the submission, the Goddess that had been so unreachable only moments before now held her arms wide to welcome another. 

Gasps of astonishment and shock radiated through the watching mob, but they hadn't even died down when the nameless Candidate grabbed hold of the support bar and swung himself through the improbable liquid barrier and vanished into the cockpit. 

Even the Gundam pilots gaped. 

"Umm. That wasn't supposed to happen, was it?" Duo said into the utter silence. 

"In the sense that inter-dimensional travel 'isn't supposed to happen'?" Wufei asked in return, seeming a little short of breath. Heero was as stony-faced as ever, but his eyes... 

"That same kid." Gareas staggered back a step, staring at the still-open cockpit. Its water-like surface rippled gently in response to motion within. "That same kid, AGAIN..." 

"The resistance is gone," the girl with blue-green hair said from her place at the console, wide-eyed. "Reneighd Klein is responding to all my commands now." 

The blond woman next to her -- Leena, she's Leena, Gareas' Repairer partner> -- shook her head, as if to clear it. "Manual eject," she stated as she pressed a button on the screen. 

Hesitant quiverings that had rippled across the gel from movement inside the cockpit erupted into a storm of wavelets. Only seconds later, a head crowned with spiky brown hair emerged from the darkness, and the rest of the rebel Candidate followed shortly thereafter. 

In his arms he carried a limp, unmoving figure covered in blood. 

"Crap," Duo muttered in awe. "That kid's arm is barely attached to his shoulder." 

"That's him." Quatre closed his eyes. He couldn't look at it, at the bloodied body that bore a face he had once seen looking back at him in the mirror, like looking at himself... "That's Erts." 

The Candidate nearest them, all blue-green hair and expressive eyes, snapped out of his paralysis before anyone else, perking up visibly. "Wow," he said, whimsical voice ringing out into the silence. "Zero is amazing!" 

His words shattered the motionless mob, which surged forward immediately; medics rushing to gather up the wounded boy, mechanics hurrying to take care of his Ingrid, and the Gundam pilots simply caught in the rush -- too much experience in too little time having worn them to threads. 

Heero recovered first and seized the Candidate that had spoken. "What did you say his name was?" he demanded, sounding remarkably off-balance for someone who was normally as even-keeled as Heero was. 

The thin boy eeped. "Ze-- Zero! He's Zero, Zero Enna!" 

"That is not funny at all," Duo said faintly. "Not even a little. And I only say that because I've had such great experiences with sentiences called 'Zero'." 

Quatre forced himself to relax from the initial, reflexive tensing of his muscles. After all, there couldn't be a correlation between the ZERO System and a totally random (if capable of performing impossible feats) boy from another dimension. He put a hand on Heero's shoulder, a silent reminder of this. 

Although he didn't react, Heero's gaze darted to Quatre in brief acknowledgement before returning to his captive. The hostage made a distressed sound, eyes sliding hopefully to his companions. But there was no help coming from that quarter; all three of them were staring at the boy called Zero with varying degrees of respect, calculation, and-- 

--loathing? 

Quatre blinked, but the image of the silver-haired Candidate with the burning red eyes staring at his (presumably) teammate with sheer malevolence wouldn't fade away. That stare was making his skin crawl, and he was neither its object nor in its path. Quatre shivered and backed away, not knowing why but instinctively aware that he didn't want to be anywhere near that boy... 

He bumped into Wufei, and when he turned to apologize, something confused and helpless in Trowa's face -- something obscure that he never found when he looked for its source, but which he had been able to sense without fail since their very first meeting -- stopped him. 

"Quatre," Trowa said, his voice soft but clearer than any of the chattering around them. "You know this situation better than any of us. ...what's going on?" 

Heero released the unoffending Candidate to give his full attention to the explanation. Quatre took a deep breath, but before he could speak, that voice cut through the air again. 

"And what's YOUR excuse?!" 

The boy Zero had allowed Erts to be taken away on a stretcher, and now stood on the catwalk, glowering at Gareas. The incredulous Pilot had one hand at his head as though caught in the midst of massaging his temples, and was gaping unabashedly at the Candidate with the temerity to challenge him. 

"Pardon me?" he said with exaggerated politeness after a moment. 

Zero waved an arm dramatically. " 'If you need someone to protect you, Erts, you don't need to get Candidates to do it; that's what I'M here for!' " he mimicked. "Isn't it your JOB to keep the Victim from tearing off his limbs?" 

Gareas had bristled after the fifth word, and by the end he looked so homicidal that one of the young women at the podium backed into Quatre and nearly fell. "Yes," he snarled. "AND?" 

"Such a good job you did of it, too," Zero retorted. "It's that kind of amazing talent that got Erts' brother killed, right?" 

A woman screamed almost before Gareas rocketed at the Candidate, and they went tumbling in a black-and-blue heap. The safety railing kept them from rolling right off the catwalk several stories above the ground floor of the maintenance bay, but the crazed look in Gareas' eyes was nearly as ominous. A clever girl in black and green slammed a button on the console that triggered a safety net underneath their level, and several others threw themselves at the brawling pair and separate them. 

"Ze-- Zero!" 

"Garu, please, leave that boy alone!" 

"This is the last fucking straw, Leena--!" 

"I think it's time for your meds, Garu--" 

"You're NOT HELPING, Rioroute, but DAMNIT Gareas, try to be a responsible adult for once!" 

They were hauled apart, Phil and her partner Rioroute keeping hold of Gareas as best they could, and the blond woman from earlier Leena wrapping her arms carefully around the struggling Zero, looking unsure whether she knew if she was protecting him from Gareas, or embracing him reassuringly. Or, just as possibly, keeping him safe so she could kill him herself. 

Quatre found that his hand had fisted over his heart, pressed tightly against his flight-suit as though to soothe it. And yet, despite his own concern, he knew almost instinctively that the source of the greater part of the confusion and fear he felt -- sending adrenaline coursing through his veins, making his body quiver with the need to act, speeding his heart-rate ever so slightly -- wasn't his own. 

Teela watched it all without getting involved, then turned almost casually to the front. Quatre was getting so used to being a spectator that he almost looked around to see who she was focusing on before realizing that it was HIM. 

"And now," she said simply, "for you gentlemen." 

It was more than Heero could take. 

Wild-eyed, he seized the girl who had backed into Quatre only moments earlier, ignoring her tiny squeak of protest, and wrenched her flush against him. With his other hand he drew his gun, and had the barrel at her ear before anyone could react. 

"Tune!" cried the blond woman, but when she took a step forward, Heero drew back the safety with an ominous click. The whole chamber froze stock-still in the echo of the sound, including the hostage, the blond woman, and Quatre's heart. 

It started up again, far faster than it should've, as Trowa and Duo followed Heero's example and pulled out their guns with the resigned fatalism of people with nothing left to do but stand with their allies in a suicide run. They drew into a defensive clot in front of Heero, Wufei taking up a barehanded stance behind him. Quatre didn't move, didn't even turn around to observe the "enemy". He doubted they'd need to take him hostage to retaliate. No, no, this is all wrong! Heero, everyone, you can't do this -- they're going to help us, and we can't afford to lose their support!> 

The technicians and assorted crew appeared at a loss for what to do. After a long, frozen moment in which they waited for Heero to give them demands or instructions and he gave them nothing but a steely glare, everyone's attention slid almost automatically to Teela. The tiny woman was staring at Heero, unmoving and totally focused on him, and Quatre was alarmed to note that it was actually making the Perfect Soldier NERVOUS: Heero backed up a step and wedged the gun firmer against the girl's temple. 

The girl... Tune...?> Quatre suddenly remembered. She's... yes, she is! My -- no, not mine; ERTS' Repairer!> 

He wished that he could be unbiased, but he found himself torn between pity and a sick sense of horror. She was the woman who had been forced to partner with Erts after the death of her original partner, so there had been no choice in the matter, and yet... Quatre couldn't forget actually being Erts, and wishing that he could blame her for his sudden uprooting from everything he'd come to care about, the sudden entry into a new world he didn't really want. 

Teela closed her eyes. Heero made a startled draw backwards, as if expecting her to lunge for him, but she made no action. After a long moment, Quatre found his attention drifting almost against his will away from them, wandering to the others nearby -- Garu stood with Rio and Phil some distance away, all of them staring, unable or unwilling to move; beyond them were the stunned Candidates by the visibly anguished Leena, and beyond her... 

Something caught the corner of Quatre's eye: Teela's hair, apparently at random, stirred as if in a breeze and began to swirl around her. There was no wind, however, and no cause that he could discern for the event. It was just surreal. 

Quatre blinked, to clear his vision. 

And in that fraction of a second, Teela was back to normal, but everything had changed so much that he had to blink again to make sure it was real. 

Heero no longer held his gun, although he appeared to be only just noticing its absence -- Teela held the weapon loosely in her hands, but she hadn't moved at all from her previous position. Duo and Trowa had taken startled steps backwards as a stranger suddenly manifested in their midst: Wufei was on the ground, cradling his head in his hands, and a neutral boy in black and green -- Yu! I TOTALLY forgot about him!> -- had another gun pointed at the back of Heero's skull. 

Pilots didn't carry weapons, and certainly not guns; such personal weapons were highly illegal in the Goddess system. Quatre glanced down at himself suspiciously, one hand flying to his vest, but the holster hidden underneath it was empty. His gun was missing -- probably because, somehow, Yu had it gripped expertly in his hands. 

But... I never even saw him MOVE!> Quatre thought numbly. 

"Let Tune go," Teela advised. 

It didn't look like Heero was going to comply. He looked even less willing to cooperate than he had been before at this humiliation, instead tightening his grip on the girl, who made a strangled sound of distress. They were at a standstill -- Yu may have had the gun at Heero's head, but if he so much as twitched, Heero could snap his hostage's neck with his bare hands. 

Praying that Yu had a steady grip, Quatre stepped in front of Heero and spread his arms to reassure the other boy. "Heero," he said evenly. "This isn't helping." 

"We are in an unknown situation, surrounded by unknown people, and there is obviously a complete lack of trustworthiness to these strangers," Heero reported tersely. "This is the only thing that CAN help, Quatre. They're going to let us go back now, or this girl will die." 

He wasn't bluffing, he certainly WOULD do it -- but Quatre could tell that he didn't want to. Something in his stance, or in his eyes, or perhaps only detected by Quatre's _uchuu no kokoro_, but there nevertheless. Heero didn't want to hurt her, and that was all that Quatre needed to know. 

The blond half-turned, carefully not putting his back to Heero in a gesture that the hair-trigger boy or the dozens opposing him could take as a gesture of disapproval. Gathering his confidence about him like a shroud, he addressed Teela. "Can you swear that no harm will come to any of us? That you'll help us to find a way home, to where we were?" 

Teela opened her mouth to answer, but then paused. She cocked her head, almost like she was listening to some dim voice. Quatre could hear nothing. Then, a mere second later, she had returned to her previous stance, straightening again and saying solemnly, "I freely swear." 

With a sigh of relief, Quatre turned back to Heero. "There's no threat to us from these people. Teela is one of their leaders, and she wouldn't go back on a promise." 

Heero relaxed minutely, but didn't let go of Tune. One eyebrow arched in elegant inquiry, and it took Quatre a moment before he realized that something else was necessary. 

"Heero was only acting in self-defense," he added hurriedly to Teela. "He did this only because he perceived that his mission, no -- our goal was in danger. I understand that there must be some repercussion for what he's done, but it's vital to our goal that he return with us. So..." 

That cool blue-green regard hardened. "If he releases Tune now, unharmed, we will place him under house arrest. This was a poor judgement he made, and we can not afford the chance that he might make it again without pause for consideration." 

"But the rest of us..." 

"Will be given the same reign as any Candidate while we seek to remedy your situation." 

Quatre hesitated, taking a few steps closer to Heero. He was met there by the others, converging in a huddle all at once without the need to be called. 

"Do it! Fuck, man, do it! Do you have any idea how much child's play it is to break out of a ROOM?!" 

"No, Duo, not like that," Quatre said urgently. "We need their cooperation. If we agree to this, then Heero will have to STAY under house arrest." 

Trowa added, "We're in their power. We don't have much choice." 

With a curt wave, Wufei insisted, "I still don't understand how this even got to this point. Who ARE these people? What is going ON? And how could they MOVE like that?" He rubbed the back of his neck grudgingly and gave Yu a sour look. The other boy only looked back at him evenly, offering neither apology nor smugness for his earlier violence, which Wufei seemed to respect, as he relaxed for almost five seconds before snapping back to attention and grabbing Duo's arm. 

"What the--?!" 

"We are talking RIGHT on top of him!" the Chinese boy hissed, jabbing a finger at Yu. True enough, the Pilot stood only inches behind Heero, listening to everything without so much as a twitch, his hand remaining steady on the gun still pointed at the back of Heero's neck. 

"Yeah, and the hostage too, what about it?!" 

"Tune-san and Yu-san don't matter," Quatre said firmly, startling Yu. He's wondering how I know his name...> "We're not going to do anything that they shouldn't know about." He took a step closer to Heero, lowering his voice to speak more privately to the boy. "We're going to go along with this, Heero. It's the only way." 

Stiffly, Heero nodded. "I know." 

"Promise me that you won't violate the rules of their house arrest," he pressed further. 

After a long moment, Heero nodded again, wordlessly. Yu instantly stepped away, handed Quatre his gun, and paused. 

Trowa stared at Quatre's gun. "How did he--" 

"Don't ask," the blond told him wearily. 

Heero released his grip from Tune's neck, and she immediately darted away, into the arms of a frantic Leena, where she promptly burst into terrified tears. Yu resumed his movement, stopping near his sister. 

Unnecessarily, Duo said aloud, "We agree to your terms, Miss." 

Teela smiled, and an eerie premonition froze Quatre's spine. "Good," she responded pleasantly. "Now we can go visit Dr. C." 

Duo shook his head. "Oh, good. We've got not-Gundams, not-ZEROs, and now a not-crazed scientist giving out the orders to the not-pilots. And we've still got an hour or so before lunchtime. This promises to be a very long day."   


* * *

  


For those of you not acquainted with Gundam Wing, Quatre can often understand other people's emotions and intentions without needing explanation; his ability to know things and feel things he calls "_uchuu no kokoro_", which is a very obscure concept that translates loosely to "Heart of Outer Space". Quatre's _uchuu no kokoro_ is going to be... important. 

The ZERO System is a computer system installed on Heero's Gundam, the Wing ZERO, which is more advanced than the human mind can comprehend and feeds so much information to its pilot that he often begins to hallucinate and see the future. The ZERO literally talks to people, programmed to be a sentience in its own right, and one has to learn to see through its insanity before one can master it. In the course of GW, while everyone was exposed to the ZERO, only two people ever managed to master it -- Heero and Quatre, on their second tries. The ZERO will also be... important. *smirk* 

Dr. Rivould is indeed called "Dr. C" the first time that his name is mentioned in the manga. In Gundam Wing there are five scientists, one behind each of the Gundam pilots -- Doctor J (who was Heero's), Professor G (Duo's), Doktor S (Trowa's), Instructor H (Quatre's), and Roshi O (Wufei's -- "roshi" meaning "master"). The scientists were incredibly secretive, and manipulate everyone without a second thought, and are generally regarded to be totally insane. Understandably, Duo isn't pleased to see another of them. 

Coming up sooner or later: The GW boys meet Dr. C and learn a bit more about their situation. GIS docks at GOA as another emergency situation develops... one that promises to have everyone off-balance. Zero gets given his punishment for brawling with a Pilot, but why are Clay and Hiead being punished too?! 

--Kay Willow, praying that the rest of her translations go up the day after tomorrow so she can get some peace of mind   
MK Info Site: http://flash.to/dualpotential/   
Blog: http://kay_willow.livejournal.com/   
Email: kay_willow@hotmail.com   
Contact: (AIM) Savinsilk, (MSN) see email, (Yahoo) kay_willow   
Quote: an engineer and Ryudo, Grandia II 

"Get out of here, Geohound! Nobody without technical skills is wanted in this town!" 

"I can break a man's neck in seven places. THAT'S a technical skill." 


	4. Crash -- Part 1, Chapter 3

NOTES: YES! I SPELL "BLONDE" DIFFERENTLY EVERY TIME THE WORD COMES UP! I ADMIT IT! Neither spelling is incorrect, either. 

This chapter has been crawling along because of all the wordiness in the beginning. Heero thinks a lot. But I dedicate the final finishing of it to Chevira-san, for nagging me mercilessly every single day; Calipso-san and Rayne-san and Karyx-san and Nate Grey-san for their commentary, which greatly inspired me when I read it; to all my friends and followers in the fandom; and everyone who reads this fanfic and actually likes it in spite of me. ^^ Thank you, I love you all~ 

If you don't think people are in-character, please don't tell me that you don't think they're in-character. I've done intense research and analysis of every character in this fanfic. I'm characterizing them correctly. Your problems lie in your own perception. Maybe you should stop getting your ideas from the fanfiction and start getting them from the actual series you are allegedly a fan of? 

And finally, if you are waiting for a great big cataclysmic duel of GW vs MK, get the hell out of here. This fanfic contains big words and actual usage of brain cells. None of the GW pilots wants to destroy humanity's last hope; none of the MK pilots run around and kill people they don't know who have never done anything to them for fun. 

* * *

CRASH   
[Into Me]   
by Kay Willow   


**_Part 1, Chapter 3_**

Dr. C was a perfectly normal person in his sixties, fairly well-preserved and probably once a very handsome man. His fine-boned face was lined with deep creases, and he was tall and lean, with long gray-black hair. There was an air of stillness about him, a tense feeling of inner struggle that hovered around his presence -- the kind of aura projected only by the sickly and dying -- but his eyes were still an unearthly blue, glowing with intelligence. 

He had no physical deformities or gruesome prosthetics. Heero wasn't quite sure what to make of that. 

As long as he could remember, Heero had been in training under Doctor J, and one of the things he'd always found to be true in his observational function was that the greatest of geniuses, the most outlandish of eccentrics, the ones who saw clearly the flow of power and knew how to manipulate it but who wanted none of it for their own... these people were always DIFFERENT. Whether in body shape or appearance or bearing, they were always physically freakish, scorned by the masses for their abnormalities. Doctor J had been in possession of several extremely unsubtle mechanical limbs that everyone assured Heero were quite creepy; Professor G had a nose that Duo had once joked could fully impale a man at sixty paces and a head of hair that ballooned out and nearly hid even that protruding feature; Doktor S had been missing his nose entirely, with tiny sunken eyes that seemed lifeless, more like a broken doll than a man. By far Instructor H and Master O had been the most normal of them, and Wufei's roshi stood over seven and a half feet tall and looked more like Frankenstein's creation than Frankenstein himself; Instructor H had been somewhat hunchbacked, and even Quatre -- least judgmental of souls -- had reported sheepishly that upon their first meeting he had been instantly distrustful of the weasel-like little man and his too-bright eyes and oil-slick hair. 

Even the lesser brand of brilliant minds had seemed to follow this trend. Howard, the Sweeper mechanic who had been Duo's friend, was not only in possession of an extremely pointy goatee and sheep-horned hairstyle, but also several sets of Hawaiian shirts (which all the other pilots had repeatedly informed Heero were generally considered to be in extremely bad taste) and an omni-present pair of sunglasses. People had several times in Heero's presence mistaken Howard for a homeless man. On the far end of the scale had been Tubarov, Romefeller mechanical genius and full-blooded aristocrat, who had never dressed in anything less than full velvet ornamental gown and who would sneer down his nose -- which rivaled Professor G's -- at anyone who doubted his importance, while primping his page-boy haircut. Even Treize was distinguished by his greatness: aside from his rather unusual forked eyebrows, the man contained within his person a grace and elegance that was absolutely incomparable; a gentility which, if examined very closely, would seem almost repulsive. 

As a matter of fact, the only truly great person Heero had ever known who hadn't been somehow marked by his own eminence was Quatre, and Quatre had once confessed to Heero that he had been genetically engineered, so he could hardly be born with defects. And while another could potentially be added to those ranks, Heero did not count Relena among the true leaders. She had yet to prove herself. She was not a leader for war. She was a leader for peace, a leader of a time not yet born. To Heero, such leaders were even more abstract than the man before him. 

But the man before him WAS allegedly a leader for war. He guided what appeared to be a military academy and a crew of mobile suit pilots who fought for their race and their planet, and this was good and right. He oversaw the whole universe from his chair by the window, relaying orders and having others do the work he foresaw, and that too was good and right. 

It was somehow deeply and disturbingly WRONG to him that Dr. C was not ugly or scarred or mutated or otherwise different from the norm. 

"Welcome to GIS, Gundam pilots," the man intoned in a voice that was even and empowering. 

No quavering variances?> Heero thought, feeling that strange wild feeling that he could now identify as panic rising up in his chest. No sneering decrescendo? What's wrong with this man? Why IS nothing wrong with him? This... I've never...> 

A hand on his shoulder almost made him jump; he had been so busy trying to process this unexpected lack of weirdness that his senses had abandoned him AGAIN when they should have warned him of Trowa's approach. 

I can't take this. I don't understand. Doctor J never mentioned this in my training.> Automatically, he sought to return to perfect equilibrium; his legs had tensed and his feet slipped slightly apart as though for flight, and his heart-rate had increased without his permission. Very unprofessional. I... I don't have a defined set of processes for this scenario.> 

Trowa had already removed his hand, knowing it wasn't wanted, but what he had offered was still there when Heero looked again: sympathy. A wordless understanding and assurance that he wasn't the only one unsettled by the current chain of events. Overload was only to be expected when a program outsourced its calculated functions. 

Yes. That's right. I'm a computer.> The thought was comforting. I've temporarily been put into a scenario that matches none of my programmed data. I will simply wait for the opportunity to reassemble the collected data in a pattern that fits, and then I will take the appropriate action. And in the meantime...> 

All of that went through Heero's mind in a fraction of a second, and he found his answer. Only one of them was really equipped to deal with such dramatically turbulent situation. Wufei was too rigid, Trowa too secretive, Duo too excitable, and Heero himself too narrowly-trained. 

Quatre was the only one of them who had background knowledge of the situation to make the proper decisions anyway. Heero couldn't lead them into this; this was not a war and not a battle but an evaluation, two totally random elements colliding and seeing what the other was about. He couldn't deal with the random. It wasn't something Doctor J had been able to coach him for. So it was up to Quatre to be their leader. 

Fortunately, the young Arab was a born leader. He had been watching Heero with a nervous expectation; almost as soon as the acceptance registered with the other boy -- mere moments after Dr. C's words of greeting, because every second was a wasted second and could get somebody killed, and he had been trained to avoid unnecessary casualties -- Quatre stepped forward. "We are honored, Dr. C," he said, voice sounding thin and frail in the huge vaulting chamber, "to be the guests of the Academy." 

Academy?> Heero filed that confirmation away, along with other tidbits that he had picked up from Quatre's obscure words and the speech of the others. So it is a military academy. Pilot training, most likely. Does this make Dr. C the headmaster, or is he some superior position as an overseer?> 

Dr. C smiled at this response. "And I am pleased to meet you as well. Quatre Raberba Winner, I believe?" 

Does he have access to our channels-- No, wait. That Teela woman probably told them.> Heero glared at her. She had gone on ahead to inform Kuro of the circumstances, as well as why the Gundam pilots would be accompanied by a crew of somewhat disgruntled Candidates, and stood now at the scientist's right hand, graceful fingers curled around the back of his chair as she watched them with a cool detachment. 

Heero HATED Teela Zain Elmes. 

He still couldn't explain to himself why he'd panicked so badly when she'd confronted him in the hangar bay. He could make up a thousand excuses, but there was nothing logical that would justify his reaction. All he knew was that if he stared at her too long, everything -- EVERYTHING: her hair, her skin, her hands, her eyes, most especially her eyes -- seemed somehow WRONG. It made him edgy. What exactly seemed wrong? What was the source of this sensation? She never did anything, he never identified anything; was it his evaluation that was incorrect? 

But he didn't understand her, or his reactions to her, or even himself in perspective to her. And Heero had been conditioned to understand things. 

Heero hated her because he didn't understand her. 

And because he was, on some deep, primitive level beyond Doctor J's conditioning, afraid of her. 

Dr. C was speaking. "We believe that we have an explanation for your sudden and rather alarming arrival in our own universe. Of course, there is very little logic that you would recognize inherent in this definition -- it would seem to be beyond the scope of the rational mind -- but there is an explanation." He tapped one finger against the arm of his chair. 

"You see, in this universe we have a force called 'EX ability'." 

"Exacts ability," Quatre said immediately, as if that meant something. 

"Yes," Dr. C responded. "You see, over time in our universe we have experienced a genetic mutation, and certain individuals with Type O blood developed a new strand of bloodtype, which is now called Type EO. However, no female has ever had Type EO blood." 

His eyes flickered to Teela as he spoke, and so did Quatre's. It was a lie. 

An exception to the rule? Genetic freak?> Perhaps that was why he reacted to her. But still... It wasn't like he'd never met people who were genetically different before. He himself was considered to be such a person. And wouldn't all the mutations of this place bother him that way? 

"And in certain males who possessed the Type EO blood was discovered an unrecognizable body -- a new type of enzyme, if you will -- which reacted at the bearer's discretion, with intensities and manners that varied from person to person," he said, standing now and beginning to pace awkwardly, hampered visibly by his illness. Heero surmised it to be a reflexive action left over from Dr. C's younger years. "Some men could use this ability to move items with the power of the mind. Others could speak directly into another person's head. Still more could use it to conjure up flame..." 

"Telekinetic," Wufei murmured, drawing surprised looks. "Telekinetic, telepathic, and pyrokinetic." 

Dr. C smiled at him and nodded. "And no two abilities were ever alike. For example, one man could only summon red flame, another only blue, and a third could summon blue or red but only enough to warm his fingertips, never more. These powers came to be called, as a whole, EX abilities. 

"And they only appeared in males with EO bloodtype, usually after puberty and before adulthood." Dr. C waved. "If used too often, these abilities would grow weaker over time, until eventually they faded away entirely." 

"By what age, usually?" Wufei inserted again. He seemed fascinated. Quatre was giving him a disapproving look, for some reason Heero couldn't even begin to imagine -- the blonde was usually the one encouraging the spreading of knowledge. 

Dr. C didn't seem to mind, though. "Usually, by the age of twenty," he elaborated. "If carefully conserved, it might last until twenty-five, and remnants of its effects have been discovered up until the age of forty." 

"Effects?" 

"Oh, say... an individual whose EX was to enhance his stamina might have an unusual amount of strength and recovery speed even after his EX was beyond his reach." 

Wufei scoffed. "That doesn't sound like much use to me. A totally random power that lasts for less than ten years with the occasional after-effect that can't be controlled?" 

"Ah, but it is of great use," Dr. C corrected, smiling again. Heero nearly bristled. He didn't like the way Dr. C was so FRIENDLY either. The Gundam scientists had only smiled in cruel and cutting manners, when they were mocking lesser people, usually -- but Dr. C actually appeared to be smiling in a kindly knowledgeable manner that was grating on Heero's nerves. "You see, it was discovered that the only way to truly pilot an AHW is to have EX ability." 

"AHW?" Duo began, his own curiosity finally stirred. 

"It is what we call our mobile suits. And those who pilot them must always have EX." The scientist waved at the Candidates who stood in a respectful line by the doorway. 

Respectful only in the loosest sense of the term. Heero couldn't help noticing that two of them appeared to be having a rather furious conversation under their breaths, and the other three were leaning away from them warily. One of the troublemakers was the one called Zero, which had already ceased to surprise Heero at all. 

Dr. C cleared his throat meaningfully, and they snapped to attention. (Including Duo, who immediately slouched again, looking furious with himself.) Then he returned, quite casually, to his explanation. 

"You see, EX reaction can be used raw, or it can be channeled. And if it is channeled into a specially-made object such as a Pro-Ing, it can become interactive. Once you synchronize with a Pro-Ing... Number 86..." 

There was a brief pause, and then a short Candidate with ragged purple hair staggered forward out of the line and saluted. "Uh... You become one with it, like... so you can see through the metal as if it weren't there, and... You don't need joysticks or directional controls to move it, because it moves with you, and... You feel damage done to it like your own pain?" 

"Very good. And how do we deal with that unfortunate side-affect of the synchronization, Number 85?" Dr. C appeared to be enjoying himself immensely as a thin boy with emerald hair stumbled out to replace his companion. 

He saluted rather belatedly. "Eh... Well, that's what the Repairer is for! Wrecka-chan -- your Repairer partner, I mean -- cuts the scanner line that joins you to the Pro-Ing, and if she does it fast enough you don't feel the pain. Right?" 

"Nicely said." Dr. C turned and returned to his seat briefly. "So without the synchronization allowed by your EX traveling through the scanner... Number 89." He smiled again, this time laced with something almost smug. 

But Number 89, with straw-like hair and wide-lens glasses, was delighted to jump forward and recite, "The Pro-Ing would be nothing more than a mountain of metal. You would be blinded without the transparency in metal provided by the scanner link; paralyzed without the unity of movement; and deaf without the carrying of sound. Almost all AHW technology is dependent upon the EX connection, which is why the only people who are allowed to join GOA as fighters are young men between the ages of fourteen to sixteen with EO bloodtype who are EX positive, for a three year term of service!" 

"Thank you very much, Number 89. Excellent," Dr. C said graciously as Teela turned her head away in a gesture that, on a normal person, Heero would've assumed was to hide a smile. "Because EX connections are so vital to the operation of our daily community... 87..." That gentle expression hardened for a moment into something more disapproving. 

The white-haired boy with the red eyes glared at the floor as he stepped forward and saluted in his turn. "The use of it is highly illegal in any situation, penalties ranging from five points on the tally, a rank demerit, or instant expulsion. Outside of battle," he added, defiantly compared to the rest of his monotone speech, eyes darting up to study the scientist. 

"Yes," was the slow agreement. "Outside of battle." Dr. C stood again and turned around to look out the great windows behind him, at space. "Number 88," he said after a moment. "Do you have any idea what happened today? To bring these Gundam pilots here from their home?" 

The one called Zero folded his arms, neither stepping forward nor saluting. "Does it have something to do with EX?" he asked flatly. "Is it my fault, because I used my EX during the battle?" 

"It is partially your fault," Dr. C confirmed. "Who else do you suppose might be at fault?" 

"Hiead," Zero insisted immediately, drawing a hate-filled glower from 87. He snarled back soundlessly. 

Heero's guard snapped back into place. Those two could be absolutely nothing but trouble. He'd rarely seen so much dislike combined into two people before. Behind him, Quatre murmured something about overwhelming emotions, and Duo added under his breath that if there was going to be another brawl, he wasn't sure which one he wanted to beat up more when they got involved. 

"That is correct," Teela pronounced in a crystalline voice that cut through everything with fine precision. "Their presence here was caused by Hiead's EX... and Rei's EX..." Zero started violently at the name. "...and my EX." 

Dr. C took over again. "When their three EX abilities, all based on temporal distortion, collided in the same space due to their concern about the Victim in their midst, attacking Erts... Well, a very major distortion was created. It went right through the boundaries of space-time." He shrugged, as if such a thing were perfectly normal and happened every day. "You came through the other side." 

"Can we... replicate that circumstance? And send us back through?" Quatre wanted to know. 

"I don't know," Dr. C said pleasantly. "You see, the distortion was focused through young Erts -- he was the channel for your summoning. So really, whether or not you get home at all... depends completely on him." 

Seeing Quatre's distressed expression when those words sank in did not give Heero an uplifting sense of hope. 

"We will do our utmost to see you returned, of course," Dr. C continued. "And we shall keep all of you here, roomed on GIS in the best quarters we can give you--" 

"Except for Heero," Quatre corrected. 

"Yes, speaking of which." Dr. C's eyes flickered to Heero, paused there briefly, and then moved on. "Number 88," he said mildly. "Zero Enna." 

The boy blinked again, and stumbled forward, putting a hand to his heart in salute slowly. "Ye... Yessir?" 

"You insulted, provoked, and fought with a Pilot today." 

Dawning horror crossed his face. "Sir... Sir, about that... I apologize. I was getting carried away... Erts was in such bad shape... I wasn't thinking..." 

"You will have to be punished." 

Zero folded in on himself and shut his eyes. "I understand, sir." 

For that much trouble? I wouldn't be surprised if he got expelled. This is a military academy, after all.> Heero turned expectantly to the scientist and awaited the sort of judgement that he would've gotten had he been Zero and Dr. C replaced by Doctor J. 

* * *

"I can't believe this," Clay seethed under his breath. 

It was unusual for Clay to be so angry that a term like 'seethe' could be accurately applied to him. Usually, Zero mused, it was more like 'squeak in outrage'. Seeing as how he was the cause of this rare phenomenon -- (Zero really had no idea what that word meant, and even less idea how to pronounce it properly, but Clay himself always used it in situations like this) -- Zero resolved to walk a bit further away from the boy. 

"Well, it's all Zero's fault," Yamagi volunteered cheerfully with a smug grin in Zero's direction. Zero resolved to teach the little brat a lesson as soon as everyone stopped hating him. 

Clay stopped short in his tracks, making Roose stop, making Yamagi and Zero stop. Hiead simply ignored them all and kept walking, although the glare he directed at Zero as he passed was enough to burn through metal. 

"That's right! It's your fault!" Clay insisted in a shout almost girlishly high with stress. "Because you couldn't keep a lid on your temper, I DON'T HAVE ANYWHERE TO SLEEP TONIGHT!" 

Zero raised his hands defensively. "I don't either!" 

"Neither does Hiead," Yamagi pointed out with insane glee, obviously feeling it necessary to be really helpful as he indulged his death wish. 

"We've all been kicked out," Zero continued, ignoring him manfully. 

"Except for me." 

"Hey... I haven't been kicked out either, Yamagi-kun..." Roose protested feebly. 

Clay gave them his most frightening scowl -- it wasn't all that frightening, but just the fact that he tried counted for something -- and returned to his rant. "You had to go and bully a PILOT, didn't you? You couldn't JUST fall into an Ingrid this time, NOOOO, you had to TRY AND KILL A PILOT to boot!" 

"I wasn't trying to kill anybody," Zero protested, although this was not technically true, because at the time he'd been so pissed off that he wasn't going to place any large wagers on his own restraint if someone reversed time and allowed that fight to continue until completion. "And I didn't fall into an Ingrid this time!" No, he'd actually done it deliberately this time, and he still wasn't quite sure how except that he'd somehow known that he could. 

In fact, if he didn't know better, he'd swear that Teela of the White Goddess had also known. 

Despite his brilliant arguments, Clay went right on sputtering. "We finally get to meet Dr. C. and the first thing that happens is he SCOLDS US for allowing you to make an idiot out of yourself AGAIN -- so much for good first impressions! -- and then he punishes us for it! By putting a CONFIRMED PSYCHOPATH in our room because we can't in good conscience put him in A HOLDING CELL!" 

"Nee, I think he can speak Standard," Roose whispered loudly, casting a terrified glance at the stranger waiting patiently for them to resume their trek. 

Even in the wrist-irons, the boy who'd been introduced as Heero Yuy managed to project an air of menace. Zero still couldn't believe that they'd been allowed to escort the nutcase alone -- or that Rivould had actually put the nutcase in the room that had previously been assigned to 87-88-89.   
_ "This way he is guaranteed the comfort we offer all of our own pilot candidates," Dr. Rivould explained pleasantly to the nutcase's friends while Zero and his teammates stared at him, stunned. "The doors can be sealed with high-authority clearance codes, thus guaranteeing his safety." And, he hadn't said, the safety of every single Candidate in the corridor. But he may as well have._   
_ "What about us?" Clay inquired faintly._   
_ "This is the punishment I exact in return for Zero's misdemeanor." The man frowned at them. "You will clear your belongings from the room; Heero Yuy will be the sole resident until further notice."_   
_ "We have to be rooming across from a criminal," Roose breathed in disbelief, clutching at Yamagi's arm until Yamagi shoved him away._   
_ "I refuse to suffer the price of Zero's imbecilic behavior," Hiead insisted, nearly fuming. Zero recovered from his shock long enough to exchange a heated glower with the asshole._   
_ Rivould smiled thinly. "Oh, yes you will, Number 87." He tapped his armrest meaningfully. "You are a single unit. The five of you, you late-80s, must be as united as any pilot quintet; united the way the Seniors are, united as the Top are, united as the Goddess Pilots, united even as these foreign and unfamiliar Gundam pilots." He waved at the boys in question, who were huddled and apparently talking through this latest development, although the one with the black hair looked up defensively when he heard their mechas mentioned._   
_ United? Us? Man, is he gonna be in for an unpleasant surprise when he sees us in action. We can barely make ourselves stop shooting at each other long enough to shoot at the Victim.> Zero scanned his teammates skeptically, noting with scorn that Yamagi and Roose were hiding behind him, obviously hoping that Rivould didn't include them in the quintet._   
_ "But where will we go?" Clay tried again, visibly at a loss._   
_ Blue eyes narrowed. "I don't care," Rivould said thinly. "You can sleep in the hallway, in your Pro-Ings, in the hangar. Wherever you can. But you will be there together, and you will go through it together, and you will go to your lessons just as if you were still in possession of your room."_   
_ "Assuming we still have lessons," Teela added thoughtfully, staring out at the stars and running her fingers across the back of Dr. Rivould's chair._

  
Zero cocked his head and stared at Heero, who stared back. 

"Not exactly the friendly sort," he commented. "Couldn't we have gotten one of the nice ones?" 

"No!" Clay hissed. "The NICE ones are on GIS, cozying up to the Pilots. WE get the homicidal one!" 

The narrowing of their charge's eyes suggested that he wasn't too terribly attached to them either. Zero took heart in it; that meant that somewhere under that stony expression there was a personality, and maybe that meant that there could be communications opening up somewhere along the line. 

"I'm just glad he's in restraints," Roose volunteered, beginning to resume the walk. 

Zero didn't move. "Who, him?" he asked incredulously, pointing at Heero just to be sure. "You think that means anything?" The others turned to look at him. "This guy could've been gone any of a dozen times by now." 

"What?" Yamagi snapped. "Don't be stupid; he's here, isn't he?!" 

"You CAN'T think we've been doing such a diligent job of guarding him," Zero stated with heavy sarcasm. "There's been SO many opportunities for him to knock out one or more of us, and he's ignored them all." He turned and grinned at the nutcase, who didn't grin back. "You're not taking any hostages," he said brightly. "That's a good sign. Progress." 

Heero stared at him for another long moment. Then he said slowly, "You are Zero Enna." 

"Yeah." 

"I don't usually take hostages among my allies," the boy said simply, and turned to face forward again. 

Zero shrugged at the others, who were giving him looks clearly asking if he thought this had done anything other than prove the insanity of their charge, and then resumed the march. 

"We're Candidates," he explained to the newcomer. "The male students of this school. The head honcho explained most of that to you. We pilot Pro-Ings, which obviously is abbreviated for Prototype Ingrid. Not prototype as in beta model, but as in training vessel, the way you'll get acclimated to using an Ingrid without ever actually entering one. Most people who get in a Goddess without the proper programming get fried, or so they say. I'm not sure how accurate that fact is, since I'm obviously still in one piece and I've also obviously done it before, I mean, you were watching--" 

Clay was giving him the kind of bulging-eyed look that a person might give to an idiot who was dispensing important information to someone who took hostages under stress. "Zero!" he squeaked, back to a more typical reaction. 

"Hey, they let HIEAD know this, it can't be THAT top-secret, right?" Zero returned. 

"What does that have to do with anything?!" 

"Well, I just proved that this guy is saner than Hiead." Blank stares greeted this pronouncement, so he elaborated. "Because Heero says that he doesn't usually assault his allies. But Hiead does. So Heero's saner than Hiead." 

Even Heero was staring at him in wonder. Or something like wonder. 

The great part is, I know it SOUNDS crazy, but nobody can prove me wrong.> 

And indeed, after a few seconds, Clay said faintly, "I know I should be arguing against that, but somehow I can't." 

"You should be in a debate class," Yamagi advised. 

"Can we continue?" Heero interjected, sounding tense. He was looking so flat it was almost, somehow, murderous. "This is extremely inefficient." 

Roose practically fled down the hallway, Clay following at an only slightly more dignified speed. Zero took his time, Yamagi keeping pace with him in his usual cocky manner, although it was entirely feigned; he was sweating and his eyes kept darting nervously behind him. 

Zero didn't understand what their problem was. Heero was weird and hostile, sure, but they could take him. He didn't even have EX, so he was even less scary than Hiead was, and Zero wasn't scared of him either. 

Heero didn't have EX, but...   
_ "I can't believe we have to stand here and wait for them to have a medical check," Yamagi griped._   
_ Roose was wringing his hands quietly. "I hope Wrecka-chan's not mad at the delay," he moaned, and conveniently missed the withering glares that the others directed at him._   
_ The four of them leaned against the wall outside GIS' medical station, listening in as a man who had been introduced to them as Dr. Huan explained the physical check to the five weird newcomers. Hiead had wandered down the hall and waited tensely -- he made a point of never standing with the rest of them. Teela Zain Elmes sat patiently across from the med bay, having apparently been appointed tour guide by Dr. Rivould._   
_ Zero occupied his time by staring at her. She was gorgeous, but it was easy to understand why that Yuy character had flipped out when she'd faced him head-on: there was something indefinably odd about her. Something in the way her body was so perfect and yet moved oddly; something in how placid the expression in her eyes was even as they drank you deep within. The universe seemed infinitely larger around her than anywhere else._   
_ Looking at her made Zero think of things he'd long forgotten. Odd, half-formed memories that echoed inside him and started him thinking..._   
_ The door to the medical station exploded open, and the blonde visitor stumbled into the hall, looking frustrated. "I tell you," he said to the attendants who spilled out after him, "my blood type is O! O-positive, if you must! I've been checked hundreds of times! I'm heir to a very large fortune -- there's no way a mistake in determining my blood type could've gone unnoticed!"_   
_ Zero, who was observing the new show with amusement, couldn't help noticing the way Hiead's entire being focused when the blonde shouted his net worth to anyone who was listening. "You better hope your inheritance is really secure, guy," he murmured, amused._   
_ Dr. Huan waved his hands in a calming gesture. "Quatre, child; it's entirely possible that people where you come from don't have a register for EO blood type. After all, it did evolve from the O type, so it's very possible that they simply haven't identified you as..."_   
_ "But I'm O type," he insisted._   
_ "But our system says you aren't," Huan pointed out gently. "Your blood type is EO-positive."_   
_ "He's got EO-positive?" Yamagi parroted, drawing attention over to their cluster. "No way! Does he have EX, too?"_   
_ "Is he going to become a Candidate?" Roose asked cheerfully._   
_ "No, and no!" Quatre snapped._   
_ "Yes and no." Huan beamed at the blonde when he turned to glare at the corrected answer. "I'm afraid that you do seem to have EX, my boy."_

  
Zero shook his head. It was easily the weirdest coincidence ever. Not only had an extremely random event called five boys his own age from another dimension, but one of them just happened to be the first person in his universe to develop EX. 

"So what sort of EX does he have?" he asked out loud. Yamagi stared at him, bewildered, for a moment, as if thinking that Zero meant HIM. Then Zero remembered that they couldn't be expected to follow his silent train of thought. "Cat-something-or-other, I mean. What's his EX? Do you know?" 

Heero gazed at him, expression fixed. He didn't share. 

"Oh, right, critical information and all that." Zero rolled his eyes. "Come on. You're not going to be attacking us, right? And you're not giving away state secrets, here. Just tell us if you've ever noticed things that he can do that seem odd or unnatural." 

Still no answer. 

"Hahaha! This is the room! 87-88-89!" Roose announced with obvious false cheer. He was sweating. Zero sighed and tried to move past him into his room, but Hiead was exiting simultaneously, and there was nearly a fistfight right then and there. 

When that had been sorted out, Hiead headed straight across the hall and dumped his few possessions onto Roose's bed. Roose's eyes went wide, and he inched closer to Zero, the nearest defensive presence. 

"I guess you guys are going to be sleeping in our room," Yamagi admitted, a bit disgruntled. "But we are not giving up our beds. YOU are sleeping on the floor!" 

"Yeah fucking right!" Zero snapped back. "Sorry to inform you that I have NO intention of sleeping at the foot of your bed on the floor like some kind of dog!" 

"Oh, is that so!" 

Heero was staring at them so dispassionately that their argument stopped before it had even gained momentum. He wasn't rushing them or anything, but they both suddenly felt like they were standing right next to a living, walking, breathing source of potential trouble. 

Zero shuffled in and started gathering his own meager belongings. Clay had already finished, and headed across the room to put down his own stuff. 

"Hey! The last place you're sleeping is in my bed, Fortran!" 

"Yamagi, be reasonable. Where else would I sleep?" 

"With HIM, why don't you! I call Zero! He's the sanest of the lot of you, and that's pretty sad!" 

"What?! ME, sleeping next to... to HIEAD?!" 

"Yamagi-kuuun... I want to sleep in your bed too... He's scary..." 

"No! Fuck all of you!" 

It didn't take a genius to realize that cramming four boys and one sociopath into two beds was going to be a problem. Zero sat back on his heels and stared at his knapsack for a second, trying to think of a possible solution, or at least a way to avoid murder occurring before midnight tonight. 

Can't go beg help from the girls; even if they DON'T say it's my own fault and make me suffer for it, the top brass are going to know and they'll throw me right out an airlock. Can't go get help from any of the others; I don't really know any of the Candidates outside my own group well enough to be asking them to lend me a bed for who knows how long. Can't go and try for help from Azuma; he'd laugh his head off and then say that Rivould was too soft on me and I should go run seventy laps right now. Who's left?> 

And then, as occasionally happened, the perfect opportunity presented itself. 

Brightening immediately, he hopped up and snatched his knapsack, then sprinted from the room. 

"Bye, you guys!" he called cheerfully as they all turned to stare at him. "I'll see you later! Don't forget to lock up the Gundam pilot!" 

* * *

"What do you mean we have to sleep together?" 

Dr. Rivould had assigned her this task because she was the Chief Repairer, and probably also because he knew she was the most mature and competent person in all of GIS aside from himself and maybe Teela. But Leena privately wondered if maybe he'd chosen her because he had some sort of grudge against her. She wished that he'd asked her to take on a Victim swarm by herself in nothing more than a spacesuit -- it would surely be easier than this task. The look on the faces of the Pilots weren't exactly encouraging. 

"I mean," Leena said smoothly, sweeping her hair back casually, "that to accommodate the four Gundam pilots, we need to free up four of our rooms. So some of us will need to double up." 

"...us?" Rioroute repeated, as if concerned that he was mishearing. "Why can't, like, the technicians give up their rooms?" 

"Because their rooms are practically air-compressed." Phil didn't appear to be aware that she'd spoken; it was simply natural to respond with scorn whenever Rio said something she didn't agree with. 

Leena acknowledged, "This is true. We can't house them in hovels like that. They need proper rooms -- they're our guests." 

"So put them in GOA's guest rooms!" was Gareas' brilliant solution. 

"No. We want them to be..." Leena made a vague gesture that was supposed to be subtle. She received, in return, seven stares blank with confusion, and one stare blank with neutrality. 

Yu murmured, "Away from Heero Yuy." 

"Ohhh." 

"Not a bad idea." 

"Anyway, Dr. Rivould told me that GIS and GOA were going to stay together for a while, and at these coordinates -- they're not sure what sort of disturbances could result from the dimensional whatever-it-was," the blonde woman said. "So it's perfectly safe, and if anything goes wrong... Well, we can always detach and avoid a crisis." 

"But this brings us back to that whole sleeping-together thing," Garu said flatly. He sighed with such a long-suffering air that Leena had to remind herself that hitting him wouldn't get anything done. "I guess it won't be so bad. It has to be my room, though, okay, Leena?" 

Leena gave him a flat look. "You'll be sleeping with Rioroute." 

"WHAT?" both men in question squawked in unison. 

"And I'll be tripling up," she continued briskly, pretending not to notice their horror. "Quatre Raberba Winner will take Tune's room, and Duo Maxwell can have Phil's. Garu's room goes to Trowa Barton. Kazuhi--" 

"--will be with me," Yu said tonelessly, and glared at everyone who looked at him twice. Kazuhi seemed profoundly relieved. 

"But, um, that's kind of freaky," Rio pointed out. "If we're not going to gender-coordinate here, then we should pair-coordinate. So Phil, you and I can--" 

Phil turned a strawberry-red. Leena hurriedly interceded, "All these decisions are final. Garu will be sharing your room." She prudently didn't mention that she'd been counting on Yu and Kazuhi volunteering to share a room. 

"I don't even get to keep my own room?!" 

"No, Garu!" 

"Wait, wait, wait." Rio made the sort of calming gesture associated with a sage person about to dispense his wisdom. "What about Erts? Couldn't--" 

"Don't be STUPID!" Leena and Tune yelped at the same moment. Tune immediately blushed and murmured an apology, but Leena continued angrily. "You don't force a telepathist into a situation where it'd be all too easy to touch him without even meaning to! It'd be cruel!" 

Rio blinked, then grinned sheepishly. "Oh, yeah..." 

"So it's settled. Tune and Phil and I in my room; Quatre in Tune's room, Duo in Phil's. Garu and Rio are in Rio's room, and Trowa gets to take Garu's--" 

"Which one is he? Not the grinny one with the braid, right?" Gareas demanded tersely. 

"Trowa is the tallest one, with the bangs," Phil corrected. 

After a long moment of thought, Gareas appeared to find this answer acceptable. "Okay. I can live with that. Seems quiet. Not prone to rummaging through other people's things curiously." 

Phil said thickly, "You think Duo would be?" 

"Are you KIDDING? Did you see that GRIN?" 

The redhead looked like she might be considering a request for a transfer already. 

Oh, good,> Leena thought wearily. This is out to an absolutely brilliant start.> She resigned herself to continuing. Teela would be back with the Gundam pilots soon. "They will all be requested to NOT go rooting through your things. Now then, Yu and Kazuhi in Yu's room..." 

"Kazuhi's," Yu corrected. "Staying in my room will be Chang Wufei?" 

"What the hell kind of a first name is Chang?" Rio demanded of Garu. 

Leena didn't bother addressing that. "Yes, he'll be in your room." 

"This is an acceptable arrangement." And with that, Yu stood and left the room. Kazuhi looked after him, seeming vaguely embarrassed, and didn't move. 

Rio and Garu also clambered to their feet. That is so typical.> Leena hurriedly said, "The REST of you have to stay! We have something to talk about first." 

"Oh, good. MORE oppressive crap," her partner snarled. 

"Garu, you'd KNOW if we were oppressing you, because your attitude would earn you a smackdown in nanoseconds," she retorted. "Now sit down and shut up!" When he opened his mouth to object again, she added, "Remember that DR. RIVOULD gave me these orders, so if you don't listen to them, you're going up against Himself." 

Reluctantly, Garu threw himself back onto his chair. "Fine. Talk." 

"Battle-ready standby preparations are lowered to gray levels." There were those blank stares again. Was Yu the only one of them who'd actually listened to the Instructors when they were on GOA? "That's the lowest setting, you guys." 

"I know that," Rio protested weakly. "But... how? I mean..." 

"Dr. C says that there shouldn't be any more attacks for a few days," Leena informed them, shrugging. She'd been just as stunned to hear the news. "He said that all the lower-level Victim are frightened of the power that was generated by the rift that opened momentarily between the dimensions; all Victim will probably be staying away from the area for a while." 

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," Gareas scorned. "Victim are afraid of these five twerps?" 

"Not the boys," Tune murmured. "The rift?" 

Leena nodded. "And Dr. C seems to think that unless we get attacked by something really major -- like a Z or X-type -- there won't be any attacks until it gets fixed." 

"Then why don't we just never fix it and call the war over?" Rio laughed. 

He was ignored, as was the only truly appropriate response to such a stupid question. She continued, "And since we all know that such powerful Victim only come once every ten or fifteen years, there's no need to worry about that. So everyone, enjoy what free time you have!" 

"Wasn't the last one, like, five or six years ago?" Rio asked, standing up with the others. 

"That's right," Leena confirmed. "Five years ago, when a Type-Z attacked Far Reaches Area 128, Colony K-01..." 

* * *

The horror of it only took a moment to dawn on him. 

I can't move my left arm!> 

It took an extra few seconds to realize that, while his left arm in particular was immovable, his entire upper body was pinned to the surface beneath him. That was bad. On the other hand, he hadn't felt anything since regaining consciousness, which was good, but a pipe dream that he somehow felt couldn't possibly last beyond the moment he opened his eyes to find out what was wrong with himself. But he was awake now, and couldn't for the life of him remember what had happened, and rising panic convinced him to risk that last step towards awareness. 

He was staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. Erts squinted against the bright halogen lights, and forced his unstable vision to focus: the ceiling resolved itself into the slim metal paneling that was inextricably linked with the medical bay in his mind. 

Med bay? And I can't move? Was I... wounded?> The memory of his visit to Yu earlier that morning arose in him again, sickening and horrifying. What if it was his own body now that had been patched with the chameleon skin? 

Erts realized that he couldn't raise or lower his head. He turned it to the right, very slowly. 

Zero was asleep, sprawled in a chair next to the bed. 

It was a long and bewildered moment before Erts remembered: the attack, the battle, and the aftermath. He'd been wounded, somehow; a Victim had torn into him, and now he was here. A quick check of his person reassured him that all his other injuries had been fixed already. There was a restraining device hovering over his shoulders to prevent him from moving, and a faintly whispering machine on his arm, fixing the worst of the damage even as he laid there. He couldn't even feel whatever it was doing to him. 

He felt oddly disassociated from it. There were two pressing issues on his mind. 

Where did that Victim come from? How could it possibly have hidden its presence from me, from Reneighd, that close? Have they learned how to cloak themselves? ...are they getting smarter?> 

And, just as pressing: What is Zero doing here?> 

They were definitely on GIS, but Zero couldn't possibly have the security clearance to enter into that area. Of all the Candidates, only the Top and a few authorized Seniors were allowed onto GIS when it was docked, no matter who was a friend of or related to GIS crew. If there was someone on the Goddess Integration System that you wanted to visit, they had to go to you. 

As though he could somehow tell that he was being thought about, Zero chose that exact moment to begin to stir. For no reason whatsoever, Erts felt profoundly embarrassed -- maybe it was because of his vulnerable position and inability to move -- and turned his head back, hoping to make it seem like he was still unconscious. 

Zero was not fooled. The first place he looked upon regaining his bearings was not at Erts himself, but at the heartrate monitor embedded in the foot of the hospital bed. And, clever boy, he recognized the rhythm he saw there as being a wakeful pattern, not a sleeping pattern. "Aha," Zero observed cheerfully, "you've finally woken up!" 

"Yes," Erts murmured, although that was hardly an enthusiastic response. He tried again. "Not that you're one to talk, drifting off the way you did." That was no good, it just sounded accusatory. He tried adding a smile, to soften whatever blow might've been unintentionally behind the words, but suspected it came off rather lopsided. 

"Guilty as charged." Zero didn't seem offended. He was hard to offend by accident. "You okay? Nothing hurts, right?" 

"I can't feel anything at all," was the honest response, until it occurred to Erts that since the question had probably been delivered with the intent of gaining reassurance, he should've answered with something reassuring, like 'No, nothing hurts!' There was that embarrassment again. Erts began to wonder if he'd forgotten how to talk to other humans in the weeks it had been since he left GOA. 

"Yeah, modern technology is something else. And I'd know, because they try to avoid automic surgery with me, so I've got to get lots of the other stuff. I heard they went the natural healing way with you, too." 

Profound relief lightened the burden crushing Erts' heart. No new automics. The concept of a better and more permanent healing had been outweighed by the rarity of his EX. That was why he was still in restraints. 

"How long has it been?" Erts asked him. 

Zero shrugged. "A couple of hours. Maybe three." 

"What happened? After I passed out?" 

"The weirdest fucking thing." He laughed. "These five weird kids in five weird AHWs appeared out of thin air. Doc Rivould said they're from another dimension. We have been visited by boys from a different plane of existence -- can you believe it? They don't have EX where they come from or anything!" 

An odd premonition lingered at the forefront of his mind. Erts frowned. That sounds strangely similar to my dreams lately... Five boys who call themselves Gundam pilots, from a place where there's no Victim or EO-type blood...> 

"But, hey, never mind that." Zero leaned forward. "I was talking to that guy with the long hair, Doctor Huan or something, and according to him, you've got an hour left in that machine, and then we can go get some lunch. But then he and Dr. Croford got into this huge fight; SHE said that you needed to be in there for at LEAST another three hours, and then HE said that SHE obviously wasn't accustomed to working with the latest medical technology, and then SHE said--" 

"They don't seem to get along," Erts said, laughing. 

"Nah. But Huan's really nice. He let me stay in here and everything... Oh, that reminds me -- I actually came here for a reason. I need a favor." 

With anyone else, it might've felt like he was being used. But it was Zero. It just comes out sounding like that,> Erts thought with amusement, because he never considers anything before letting it go flying out of his mouth.> He could feel the sincerity; it seemed almost inherent that Zero was sincere, because lying simply wouldn't occur to him. "What kind of favor?" 

Zero pumped his fist in the air, opened his mouth, and then shut it again. He paused a moment, then started down what was apparently the tactful route. "Well, you see, after you got attacked, things got kinda fuzzy there. And in the end, it was me and Teela and HIEAD who wound up helping you, and that Gareas guy just pissed me off, because I thought he told you he'd protect you, right?" 

"It wasn't his fault, you know." 

"Well, yeah, but I was upset at the time. So I, like, started yelling at him, and there was a fight..." 

"You picked a fight with GAREAS-SAN?!" Erts yelped, and automatically tried to sit up. He banged painfully into the hovering restraint device, and muttered a curse before returning his attention to the topic at hand. "Are you CRAZY? You could've been KILLED!" 

"No way," Zero scoffed. "He barely touched me. But I got in trouble. Anyway, now the psychopath guy who took your Repairer hostage--" 

"WHAT?!" 

"One of the foreign kids. Anyway, my point here is that HIS punishment was being put in a containing cell instead of a room like the other four, and Dr. Rivould decided to make MY room the containing cell instead of giving him, I dunno, the solitary or something." Oblivious to Erts' mental reeling, Zero continued blithely, "So all three of us were just cast out into the hallway! And we can't ALL go to bunk up with Roose and Yamagi; it's going to be tight enough in there with just four, since their room was only designed for two. And I thought, since you're going to have a great big Pilot's room to yourself, maybe you could let me sleep there for a few nights?" 

He stared. He couldn't help it. "...sleep... in my room?" 

"Yeah. Come on, you know it'll be fun! Like a sleepover." Zero appeared to find the idea perfectly normal. Erts began to wonder if there was something wrong with that for taking the idea and running away with it into the land of uncomfortable and awkward. "Come on! It's this or the hallway, for me," he wheedled. 

Erts had not formerly been aware that Zero was in possession of a pair of remarkably convincing puppy dog eyes, but he was now. Self-consciously, the blonde averted his gaze, POSITIVE that this was going to be trouble, but he found himself saying, "Well... all right. Since you're in such a bad situation, I guess there's no harm." 

"Great!" Zero exclaimed, pounding his fist on the armrest. "That's perfect. I am so set." 

Amused in spite of himself, Erts said, "So, now that we know why you're here, my only question is... HOW are you here?" 

"Eh?" The older boy looked confused for a moment. "Oh! Security clearance." Suddenly he beamed cheerfully. "Check it out!" He fidgeted with the jacket for his formal uniform. The Academy seemed to want to go all-out to impress their visitors, if the Candidates were required into the dress outfit. Zero wasn't actually wearing his jacket -- Erts caught a distinct sense of antipathy towards it, in fact -- but he had it slung across the back of his chair. 

Suddenly, Zero whipped around and shoved the jacket into Erts' face. 

He blinked, and refocused his eyes, and then gasped. "You're--" 

"Yep! Second Troop!" Zero crowed proudly. "And the TOP, too! The tournament was only four days ago, but I made it!" 

It was impossible. It couldn't be. No one had ever made it so far, so fast. Erts had taken six months to travel from Entry-Level to become the Top, and he had the record; but Zero had only been in GOA for two months and he was already Top of Second Troop. Erts stared disbelievingly at the rank marks, but they didn't change. There were still two of them. 

"Let me tell you, it was some chore; Hiead kept trying to get ahead of me every step of the way, the son of a bitch, and Yamagi was right on my heels. But I kept my pace up and it's only another few weeks before I'll be made First Class, Instructor Azuma says, and then Kizna said that I could--" 

Erts relaxed his muscles, forcing himself to just listen to Zero instead of thinking about the sheer unlikelihood of what he'd accomplished. Other questions, like 'What does it mean?' and 'How much farther will he go?' and 'Who brought me here?' and 'Are those foreigners related to my dreams somehow?' seemed less and less important as the brunet's friendly chatter washed over him, soothing and comforting to his battered body and strained mind. 

Erts didn't notice when he drifted into sleep again, and Zero pretended not to. 

* * *

Gee, I bet nobody can see where THAT'S going, huh? 

But the first person who takes the sleeping arrangement and suggests that I'm going to put Garu/Rio in this fic needs to take the nearest leap into the river of reality, or off the cliff of sanity, or something preferably fatal. 


End file.
